


Soft Touch

by lollercakes



Series: It's All in Your Head [5]
Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-08-27 21:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16710073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: Anne Shirley came to Avonlea after only knowing the hurt that comes from love. They tried to repair her, to rebuild her, but old habits are hard to break and she disappeared into the love she thought she deserved.But time and tragedy can make old things new again, breathing life into something long thought dead. When a mysterious woman appears in Glen St Mary, Gilbert Blythe is determined to remind her that love isn't the heavy hand but a soft touch.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Without trying this turned into a short novel, one that's nearly almost complete. I'm giving you a head's up that this story has angst, hurt, references to past abuses and some PTSD, and a fair portion of tragedy. But it also, I hope, has heart and comfort and happiness tucked in amongst its words. There be adult-themes ahead, so be warned, there's a reason for the rating.

I’d grown up on soft touches from my father. Never a whip nor a boot nor an open palm had come up against my skin. He’d ruled with a gentleness that I knew other boys didn’t receive and I could never figure out if it was because he was a kind man or because he feared I was missing out on having a mother’s guidance. Regardless of the reasons why, I’ve never known an unkind hand. 

But others knew. They knew it for their skin bore the marks and their eyes told their stories. None more so have I found than Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, the red-headed orphan who’d appeared one day in Avonlea with a vibrancy so blinding I almost missed the way her smile slipped in those faltering moments. 

She was bright, strong and forceful, her spirit so loud and encompassing that when she hit me across the jaw with her slate I nearly thanked her for bestowing her attention on me. But I was foolish to touch her, to pull at her like I owned her. I saw it immediately in the way her mask slipped and her shoulders slumped, Mr Phillips compounding the embarrassment by calling her up to the board. 

I tried to intervene when I saw the flicker of anguish plain on her face. I tried to take it back. To shelter her from the onslaught of mockery and chastising I’d invited. But it was too late. I’d swung that heavy hand and branded her as a fire out of control, her temper as hot as the colour of her hair. 

* * *

It took years for Anne to let me in after that. Weeks and months of gentle prodding, a century of unspoken favours that slowly worked their way into her good graces. When finally,  _ finally _ , she shone her smile on my poor soul I was too far gone to realize that I was lost.

We grew together like vines then. She shared her stories, her secrets, and I tried to remain stoic as she revealed every scar and every wound that had ever been laid upon her. I fought her demons in the light and tried as hard as I could to help her move forward. 

“Remember when you asked if there were any dragons I needed slaying?” She said one day, the summer breeze sweeping stray pieces of her fiery hair around her brow. I remember looking up from my notebook, squinting as she plucked aimlessly at the grass around us. I wasn’t able to answer her then though the memory was fresh in my mind’s eye. She’d been blinding at that moment, her small smile hidden at the corner of her lips. “I feel as though maybe my dragons were too big for you then. But maybe you’ve gotten taller since…And... “ 

She never finished her sentence. Her fingers brushed the hair away from her face as she sighed and got to her feet. I made the mistake of watching her go; I was a boy too young to realize that sometimes people want you to follow them. 

* * *

The proposal left my lips in an orchard, the smell of spring fresh in the air around us. I held my breath as I waited for her acceptance, her palm in mine and my heart hammering in my chest. I watched as her emotions rippled and crowded her expression, moving like a swift river and changing just as quickly.

"Oh, Gilbert -- you -- you've spoiled everything." 

Her words were like a bucket of cold water, dousing me and making me shiver inadvertently. In retrospect I can see where I’d misstepped, where I’d rushed forward when I should have held back. She’d made such progress that for a second I’d convinced myself that she would let me in but I’d ruined it all. 

There was no going back after that. My tongue had been burned and the taste for her that I’d once had was bittered and sore. I worked in those months, years, to put distance between us all in my vain need to reclaim my broken heart. 

When finally I settled in Glen St Mary, a Doctor and a bachelor, I believed maybe there was hope for me to now move on. But fate, I’ve found, has a funny way of not listening. 


	2. 1.

“Gilbert Blythe?” A familiar voice calls from above me, my gaze darting from the pages of my newspaper up towards a beautifully aged Diana Wright. 

“Hello Diana, it’s good to see you,” I lie, my heart hammering in my chest. Diana still meant Anne to me - like a pair of mittens, they were practically strung together and I wasn’t prepared to see her. Not yet. 

“I could say the same - it’s been years since you’ve been back to Avonlea!” She greets, her hands about her face as her cheeks flame. I can’t quite perceive what her look is trying to say to me and a part of me hopes maybe I’m not supposed to. 

“Yes - well, almost that I guess. Work has had me busy - I’m only here for…” I look away and chew the inside of my cheek, the reason for my returning to Avonlea hanging like a cloud overhead. 

Marilla Cuthbert had died one week ago, asleep in her bed and with Rachel Lynde down the hall. The news had spread quickly and though my family hadn’t asked, their call to me was accompanied by the subtle hint that it would be nice for me to return home for the funeral. Mary wouldn’t say it outright but there was no way denying she had hoped that my coming home would create an opportunity to repair old bridges. Even ones I was determined to let crumble. 

“Ah, yes. Well, it should be a lovely service. Rachel is making every effort,” she adds on a low breath, her eyes averting. “Will we see you then, tomorrow?” 

“Yes - I likely won’t stay long, I’ve got to catch the evening train home again.” Diana nods and bites her lip, her mouth opening and closing as though she were about to say something. I can practically hear her thoughts in my head and it churns my stomach, my hands lifting my newspaper slightly. “I guess I’ll see you there then,” I add hastily, turning my attention back to the pages before she can muster up the courage to say what she wanted. 

The dismissal works well enough and soon I’m left to read in peace. Well, almost in peace. My thoughts were at war with themselves, spinning and sparking off one-another in the way they used to whenever I was thinking of Anne. It had been years since we’d grown apart - I’d completed medical school and taken over my Uncle’s practice on the Island. She’d apparently married Roy Gardner two years after turning me down, settling into Kingsport and living in the society scene that I couldn’t bear to follow anymore. 

We were surely different people now and attending her old guardian’s funeral was unlikely to result in anything more than a blip on the radar of our new lives. But still. My stomach was in knots at the prospect of seeing her again. Of seeing her with  _ him _ . 

When the train pulls into the station I beeline for my family and force myself to wipe all thoughts of Anne Shirley from my mind, determined to put the past behind me. 

* * *

She wasn’t there. Anne wasn’t there. 

I look around the graveside again, my eyes casting a wide net at the few faces around us and coming up empty. It felt off, like something wasn’t right, and I couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t come to Marilla’s funeral. The woman had been like a mother to her - why would she not be here? 

The memory of Matthew’s funeral and the way she’d crumbled after that, a heap of red and tears, filled my mind’s eye and I scanned the crowd again. It didn’t make sense for her not to be here. Anne wouldn’t miss this. Anne would die before she missed saying goodbye to Marilla.

“I hear the girl is still in Kingsport.” One of the Pye offspring mumbles behind me, my ears perking to the gossip as the reverend starts the service. 

“Couldn’t even come back for her the funeral. Couldn’t be bothered, I hear,” Josie Pye whispers loudly and Bash’s shoulders tighten, his gaze sliding towards mine. I have to close my eyes as she continues on, my heart sinking with every word she spills. “She always was so ungrateful of Marilla’s care. I’m not surprised.” 

“Gil,” my Bash breathes, his hand coming to rest at the back of my neck. I feel the tension ease as he slides closer, his touch grounding me as I turn my attention back to the service. 

I don’t think I can stand attending the wake and instead choose to wait by the grave until the last of the people have gone, the hole in the ground ominous as it lay before me. This was a woman who had so much love to give but struggled with it until Anne came and helped release it out into the world. Her charge had been a catalyst, everyone in the village could see it, and now she lay here alone with no wayward girl to cry at her funeral. 

It pained me to realize that she didn’t come home, the possibility that her life in Kingsport was too important to leave behind for a few days to come say goodbye to a woman who’d given her everything. 

“Dammit Anne,” I hiss, setting my flowers down on the gravestone and heading off towards home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay - I promise, the chapters do get longer after this.


	3. Two

Back in Glen St Mary I throw myself into my work - treating patients at all hours no matter the seriousness, spending my spare time reading up on case studies and the newest advances that colleagues send from school. I try not to think about my trip home and the inevitable loss I felt at not being able to see Anne, the truth of that hitting me only once I stepped off the train at the station to see the stable hand ready with my horse. 

I leaned so deeply into work that when Michael Turner eventually settled himself into my waiting room chairs it was with the intention of tearing me out of the surgery and back into the world of the living. 

“Blythe, you’re much too young and successful to continue on like this,” Michael sighs, dragging me into a teahouse down the road and settling my exhausted frame into a chair. “I simply must have you over to dinner - the kids are pleading for you to come for another visit and Sarah is determined to cook you her famous roast.” 

“It’s just been hectic lately, is all,” I lie, sipping at the hot liquid and scalding my throat. 

“That isn’t true and you know it. I’m telling Sarah you’ll be over tomorrow - please don’t forget and make a fool - “

“Fine. I’ll come. Let’s not get carried away here,” I grumble, my lips turning up at the edges as he lets out a heavy breath. 

“Oh thank goodness - I wasn’t looking forward to telling her you’d declined again. She really would not take that well after the last time!” He adds with a shake of his head, dissolving the conversation into niceties and stories from his work at the bank. 

We’re only just starting to wrap up our impromptu lunch when the Stewart boy barrels through the entryway, his eyes wide as he looks around and settles his gaze on me. 

“Doctor Blythe - you must come quickly!” He gasps, lurching forward and grabbing at my hand to pull me to standing. My body flips into response mode instantly and I jerk to my feet, stuffing my hands in my pockets in search of coins to pay. 

“It’s on me Blythe - I’ll see you tomorrow,” Michael nods, waving me off. I stumble from the table and pull on the sleeves of my coat, following the boy through the shop door and hastily into the street. In my rush I barely see where I’m going and collide with a woman, our bodies bouncing off each other and sending us tumbling to the ground. 

With the breath knocked out of me, I turn to catch sight of the woman’s dark hair and pale skin, her hat tipped low over her brow. Scrambling to my feet despite the pain, I watch as she too rushes to stand and with one quick look at me takes off in the opposite direction. 

“Doctor - we must go quickly! The baby is coming!” The boy pulls anxiously on my sleeve and breaks me from my confusion, my mind turning back to the task ahead. 

* * *

“And then the boy ran out into the street and right into the new teacher!” Michael crows, his hands high above him as he retells the story of my less than impressive exit to birth the Stewart baby. Across from him his children laugh, their bright faces sparkling in the dim evening light as Sarah taps a napkin at the corner of her lips. 

“I do admit, that is quite the story, Gilbert,” Sarah says with a smile, her hands crossing as she looks over at me pensively. “I wonder if you’ve been over to see her after this collision? The children say she wore a bandage to class today. Perhaps maybe she hurt herself in the fall?” 

I snap my eyes up at that, a frown creasing my brow as I look towards her. “She never - I mean, she ran off before I could ask if she was alright. I’d have thought - “ 

“Oh, I’m sure she was just startled! I didn’t mean to imply anything malicious, of course,” Sarah exclaims with a chuckle, waving her hand towards me as she gets to her feet. “Anyways - I thought I should mention it so our lonely bachelor doctor could maybe look in on our town’s newest lovely lady.” 

“She’s trying to play matchmaker again,” Michael sighs, watching his wife clear the dishes with a broad smile. I shift in my seat at the suggestion, my words frozen in my throat. 

It would be good to meet the new teacher, to ensure that she was alright after our… Encounter. Maybe to see that she hadn’t broken anything. That’s what we doctor’s were supposed to do, right? 

“Now we’ve gone and gotten him lost in his head again!” Michael rouses, clapping his hand against my shoulder. “Come, let’s go sit near the fire as Sarah puts the children to bed.” 

We retreat to the sitting room and dive into the happenings of the mainland, the stories of crime that have trickled their way over the channel and into the sleepy village of Glen St Mary. When eventually Sarah joins us, her smile warm as she slips down beside her husband, I take my leave and get to my feet. The exhaustion of the week prickles at my temples and I say my thanks by the door, careful to not tip the plate of leftovers that Sarah has wrapped for me. 

* * *

The next day I find myself at the steps of the little cottage near the school, the one relegated for teachers who require accommodations while working here from out of town. It looks well cared for, it’s gardens tamed and the windows filled with curtains I observe as I step up and let my fist rap against the wood. 

“Doctor Blythe! What a surprise!” Susan Baker greets me, her smile wide as she looks around as though I should be accompanied by others. “I dare ask - have you come here alone? And what for?” 

“I, um, heard that there may have been an accident?” My tongue feels thick in my mouth and when Susan’s face pales I stutter and shake my head. “I’m sorry - no, I don’t mean you to worry! I mean to say that it was recommended I come check on the new teacher as apparently she may have been injured in our little run in the other day.” 

Susan shifts on her feet, a quizzical look in her eyes. “It was you that she ran into?” She questions carefully, her gaze dropping to my black medical bag and the way my knuckles whiten around it. I hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected a line of inquiry or suspicion from this housecall and yet here I was, waiting to be given entry to meet someone I’d never met before. 

“Yes - Is something the matter Mrs Baker?” I counter, concern lacing my tone as the woman shifts on her feet. 

“No, I supposed not. Miss Wright is out for a walk at the moment but I’ll be sure to let her know that you’ve called on her. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got muffins in the oven that should be taken care of!” The door closes with a light snap, the mood having changed so quickly that I almost missed it. 

When she doesn’t return after a moment I take the hint and make my way back to my horse and ease myself onto it with a grunt. This whole excursion had been bizarre from the start - the image of the woman taking off without so much as an apology striking me as unusual, even for this town.    
  


By the time I’m halfway home I figure if Miss Wright does indeed need medical attention, she’ll need to come seek me out. It’s only once I’ve made this resolution that a striking figure breaks through the treeline, their slim frame vibrant in the dark dress they wear with their hair tied back in a braid. The image is so familiar that an eeriness ghosts over me and my skin alights with gooseflesh, my horse turning towards her without a second thought. 

“Miss Wright?” I call from afar, watching as her face turns towards me. She freezes mid step, watching me for a second before abandoning the field and tearing off back into the trees. “What in God’s name…” I whisper to myself, clucking the horse forward into a trot. 

I know I’ve lost her behind the pines, my heart beating erratically as this enigma has eluded me once again. I wait for a few minutes at the edge of the forest, hopeful that she’ll re-emerge and this strange experience can be over, but she never does and with night falling I know I can’t put off returning home much longer lest I be committed to a cold house all night. So home I go with bubbling questions in the back of my mind. 

* * *

I don’t stop by Miss Wright’s cottage for the remainder of the week, choosing instead to focus my attention on patients who actually wish for my care. The work offers me little reprieve and when I settle into my office on a Friday afternoon to complete my outstanding paperwork I find myself drifting to old memories of sitting by a lake with the sun dappling bold patterns across my chest. 

“I’ve found out more about your mystery woman,” Michael greets, poking his head through the door and disrupting my thoughts. 

“What mystery woman?” I counter, barely looking up from my notes as he settles into the seat across from me. 

“Miss Wright - the teacher who continues to run from you every time you get close. I don’t believe it’s just you, if Sarah’s sources are at all correct. Apparently she doesn’t hold company with men  _ at all _ . She’s hired Susan Baker as her housekeeper and the woman is like a steel trap with secrets.” He pauses and I sneak a glance, hesitant to show my curiosity. 

“And is she quite alright since the fall? No injuries requiring my attention?” I prod lightly, hoping that we can close the book on this odd situation once and for all. If she doesn’t need my help then obviously we could continue on not knowing one another - the social requirements in the Glen were not  _ that _ meddling. At least I hoped not. 

“The boys say that she no longer wears any bandages, so if that is a testament to her health then yes, I do believe you’re off the hook for that.  _ But _ Sarah has it on good sources that Miss Wright came from the mainland over the summer and utterly refuses to attend social functions unless they’re part of her teaching duties. It’s quite peculiar, she thinks, since apparently the woman is rather handsome…” Michael pauses as I roll my eyes, sitting up to continue spreading his gossip. “We’ve also heard that the board placed her here on high recommendations from another school board, but the Ladies Auxiliary is not too pleased with a teacher who doesn’t socialize with her community.” 

“Maybe she just needs to settle in some,” I interject lowly, remembering other women I’d met who spread their wings once they felt like they belonged. 

“Perhaps. Maybe she needs a young suitor - “ 

“No - I ask you kindly to stop this now, Michael. You’ve already attempted to ruin my life with arrangements. We will not go down this path again.” My words are final, biting as Michael’s gaze locks onto mine. 

“I’m just trying to help you along to a life of happiness, young Blythe. Your uncle was always better when your aunt was around,” he chides before slapping his knees and getting to his feet. I watch him go, a small smile on my lips as he tips his hat to me. “Do think about it, boy. She could be the one.” 

* * *

I’m called out in the middle of the night to another birth, the baby not willing to wait for me to get another solid few hours of sleep before insisting to come into the world. Thankfully it’s an easy case and a few hours after taking off in the middle of the night I’m able to re-saddle my horse and head for home just as the sun is starting to rise over the cliffs. 

Halfway home I pause along the ridge, taking in the sweet morning breeze and the way the sky seems to lighten more with every minute. The beauty of this place never ceases to amaze me, it’s quiet spirit similar to my own in a way I hadn’t expected when I decided to take up the practice here. 

Years in school had taken me away from the simple life that I’d longed for since I was a boy, keeping my head down as I focused on getting the best grades and fighting my way to the top. When Anne had turned away my hand I’d only crawled further into my studies, doing my best to change the world that I wanted for myself if only so that I could close off that part of my life. It hadn’t worked, no matter how hard I’d tried, and I’d quite surely given up on finding happiness until I moved to this small town. 

Now as I urged my horse onward I couldn’t help the smile spreading across my lips. There was a contentedness now that I hadn’t had for years and it was pleasant, like maybe a puzzle piece had found its way home. 

Trotting along the edge of the water I try to think of what had changed in these last few weeks, what had come about and made me happy once again but the only thing that had made a difference in this small sleepy town was the new arrival that I hadn’t even had the chance to meet yet. 

_ No, that couldn’t be it _ , I convince myself and look ahead towards home. I nearly fall out of my saddle when I spot the woman of my wonderings in her black skirts, standing on the edge of the cliffs and looking out towards the sea and the sunrise beyond. She’d come almost from thin air, her long black tangle catching behind her in the breeze. 

I debate turning down back towards the road, leaving her to her thoughts, but something pulls at me and urges me forward until it’s almost rude to turn away. 

“Miss Wright?” I call ahead, hoping not to startle her as her head swivels towards me. She clutches at her arms and turns away abruptly, running back down the field and towards where her cottage lay in the distance. 

My stomach flops as I watch her go, my throat struggling to come up with anything worth saying.  _ Why did she run from me again? _ This was not the first time I’d been rebuffed but it still felt like a slap to the face, one that I wasn’t prepared to receive.  _ Had I done something to wrong her? Had she taken our collision in the street as something malicious? _

With half a mind wanting to chase after her I force my thoughts to rein themselves in, settling to watch her disappear into the distance once more. I won’t force her to interact with me. If she wants to keep distance between us then that was just fine with me. It had to be. 

The rest of the day is riddled with questions that pop into my mind with no warning. All of them about this strange woman who won’t give me the time of day, who’s caught me in this web of wonder. 

_ Did I do something to offend her?  Why did she always run in the opposite direction when I drew near?  Was she afraid of doctors after a fresh loss? Were her black skirts signs of mourning? _

It plagues me through the remainder of the week until I find myself once more at the Turner residence, taking advantage of good food and company as I try to rid myself of the thoughts that churn in my mind late into the night. 

“And then Miss Wright said that when she was young she nearly drowned because she was acting silly and the whole class laughed!” Thomas exclaims, a light in his eyes as he recounts his day at school for the table. His brother Clarence smiles and shakes his head, looking towards his father with an wisened smile. 

“The little ones appreciated it more than us upper years. Although I will admit Miss Wright has a funny way of telling stories,” Clarence confirms, proudly spearing his fork through a potato. 

I listen to the banter with a wavering interest that begins to peak when small pieces start fitting together in a peculiar way. Nearly choking on my food as the possibility dawns on me, I shove myself back from the table as a fit of coughing works to clear the food from my throat. 

“Young man, are you alright?” Michael gasps, getting to his feet and slapping his hand against my back in hopes to assist me. I cough and shake my head, my eyes watering as I look towards Sarah with the question on my lips. 

“What did you say was Miss Wright’s first name?” I rasp, the thoughts spinning in my mind. It couldn’t be her. She would have had to have changed her name. Dyed her hair. Disappeared from her life in Kingsport. 

“I believe I’ve heard the name Cordelia but that is only in rumours,” Sarah replies carefully, her eyes wide as she looks at me. Michael squeezes my shoulder and sighs, looking between us. 

“A strange man has taken over you lately,” he grumbles, returning to his chair. I push myself to my feet and drop my napkin on the table, certain that I could not keep the madness of my thoughts in check long enough to finish supper. 

“I think I’m feeling unwell this evening. Please accept my apologies for leaving like this,” I mumble and step away from the table leaving a stunned room full of Turner’s to watch me as I go. 

I make it out the front door and into the yard before Michael comes flying after me. “Here, boy, what is the matter with you?” 

Shaking my head, I shove my arms through my jacket and stalk towards the barn without slowing. He chases after me and I groan internally at having to admit my paranoias to this man who’d done nothing but welcome me into his family. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I lie, lifting the saddle harshly to begin working through the straps with swift movements. Michael sputters behind me, his mouth opening and closing but no words escaping as he watches me rush through my efforts. 

“You can tell me what’s got you all twisted up about this Wright woman, Blythe. It won’t change what I think of you - or her, for that matter.” His words do little to comfort me and I lean my head against the smooth leather, inhaling the scent of the barn and trying to center myself once more. 

“I can’t - not yet. I don’t want to cause any trouble for her,” I mumble and nearly regret it. My words imply more than my silence and I turn to Michael with pleading eyes, my hand lifting to rest on his shoulder. “Please say nothing of this evening to anyone. It will do no one any good to hear about the strange doctor behaving like a madman.” 

“I would never - but Gilbert, you can tell us. We are like your family, we won’t judge you - “ 

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” I interrupt and lift myself onto the horse, turning it past the man and steering it towards the gate without another word. 

I take off with a quick farewell, my thoughts speeding faster than my horse can carry me. It’s impossible, what I’m thinking, but the strange happening of it all is so fitting to the imagination that a small part of me is convinced of its truth. 

Anne Shirley was still married in Kingsport, she wasn’t here in Glen St Mary. It was wishful thinking, it was insanity. 

But still I race on towards the cottage by the schoolhouse, breathless and anxious as the possibilities grow and multiply like weeds in an untended field. When finally the building comes into sight I pull my horse to a stop and still my heavy breaths, sweat lining my brow as I look at the lit windows of the building in the distance. 

“It can’t be her,” I mumble to myself, staring at the windows and begging for a sign. I knew I couldn’t go over there, not tonight after dark at least. A crazy man on your front step was never welcome and despite our history I knew showing up unannounced would sour the situation quicker than my heart was beating in my chest. 

No. I needed to make a plan to determine if it was actually her. Until then I would let the poor woman live her life, separate from me and my newly discovered mental instability. 

* * *

I steer clear of the Turner’s and the new teacher for a full week, writing letters home and trying to collect the information that I need to assure myself that it isn’t possible. Bash and Mary offer no help, oblivious in their response and certain that Anne was still on the mainland and far away from the Island. Diana’s letter on the other hand was more guarded, the tone of her writing implying confusion but there was something about it - about the way she scoffed at someone choosing Cordelia Wright as a name that rang untrue. 

No, the letters home held little clarity and though I remained busy at the practice, my thoughts were tangled up at all hours with the puzzle before me. Distraction was a paramount observation from my patients and while the kind ones pat my shoulder and crooned about the lady on my mind, the more cantankerous ones refused to pay the bill when it came and complained that my service was sub-par. 

By Sunday I was donning my best shirt and tie and arriving at church early to scan the crowd for the woman, desperate to finally prove that it wasn’t her. It wasn’t  _ Anne _ . 

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Doctor Blythe,” Susan Baker greets as I stand near the entryway to the church, watching as people gather in the yard before heading inside. Turning towards her, I smile broadly as she lifts an eyebrow in my direction. 

“Yes - well, typically I’m called away during the evenings and attending regular services is quite challenging. I’ve an arrangement that allows me to come throughout the week when time allows - “ 

“I wasn’t judging your religiosity boy,” Susan sighs and takes hold of my arm, her grip firm. “I merely wanted to say hello.” 

My brow furrows as I watch her gaze drift beyond my shoulder, her smile growing as she eventually releases me. The encounter is odd and when I turn around I see that most of the crowd has entered the church, much to my chagrin. I’d missed  _ her _ and it had been  _ Susan _ who had distracted me. 

If it wasn’t Anne trying to avoid me then why would Susan work so hard to protect her employer? What would any woman have against the town doctor that would make someone cover for her like this woman did? 

I had to see her face. I had to know if it was her. 

Settling myself in the last pew I try to focus on the sermon but instead find myself scanning the back of heads and trying to determine which one was her from afar. When the service ends I make sure that I’m the first one out the door, watching the faces pass me as I hover near the entrance. 

The black dress and hat with a small veil make me stumble through the crowd, tripping over someone’s foot and nearly falling into the Marshall family as I try to catch up to her. With apologies all around I spin on my heel and catch sight of the woman and Susan riding off in a small buggy, the distance between us almost insurmountable. 

“Why don’t you come for supper tonight, Gilbert?” Sarah breaks through my hazy thoughts, her hand coming to rest on my elbow as her and Michael come around to look at me. I must be pale, my face likely showing my disappointment because Sarah sighs and holds her hand to my brow. “Doctor, what has gotten into you lately?” 

Michael watches his wife and smiles, glancing between the buggy that’s disappearing down the road and the distraught look on my face. “The boy is seeing ghosts, dear.” 

I realize then that Michael is right. I wasn’t seeing Anne, I was seeing someone I wanted to be her so desperately that I’d convinced myself that this stranger was her. They were not the same thing and I was trying to solve a puzzle with no solution. 

“Yes - supper would be lovely,” I reply lamely, shoving the question into the back of my mind and focusing on the here and now instead of the impossibilities that I’d obsessed myself with. 


	4. Three

It happens at the end of a long day, my hands busy locking up the surgery door when I look in the reflection of the window and see Anne standing across the street, her gaze focused on my back. When I turn around to see her she doesn’t move, doesn’t flee or disappear like every other time I thought I’d seen her. Instead she stands frozen in place, her grey eyes wide and stricken as I look towards her. 

Though there’s a street between us I can practically feel her slam into my chest, my breath catching as she lifts a gloved hand in greeting. Her hair is black - jet black - but almost everything else is the same. Her freckles are bright, her eyes shadowed but still beckoning me in. She’s thinner than I ever remember seeing her but I blame that on the time that’s passed and the change that’s grown between us. Her black sleeves reach to her wrists and despite the warmer weather she still wears heavy skirts that seem to swallow her whole. 

But she’s still Anne. Somehow, she’s still the girl I once knew. 

I don’t know how to proceed when she crosses the swatch of road, my thoughts spinning as she gets closer. I stand frozen as she moves before me, her lips tight as she reaches out a hand towards mine. 

“Cordelia Wright,” she offers, waiting patiently for my hand to slip into hers. When it does it’s like a fire is lit inside of me, my body sparking as I swallow thickly. Anne. No,  _ Cordelia.  _

“Why?” Is all I can manage as her tight smile falters. 

“May we go inside, Doctor Blythe? I realize you’re just closing up but it took me ever so long to get up the courage to cross the street,” she asks quietly. I stuff my hand in my pocket to retrieve my keys once more, my hands shaking as I turn and attempt to open the lock. 

I fumble once, twice, before dropping the keys and swearing as I bend down and grasp at them, my hand wrapping instead around her knuckles. Jerking back like I’ve electrocuted myself, I watch as she opens the lock slowly and hands me back my keys. 

Inside the building the silence spreads out between us, thick and heavy and unbroken by the sounds of the street outside. I move to sit on the edge of my desk, watching as she looks curiously around the small space. Her searching gaze eventually lands upon me once more and she closes her eyes, the tears coming silently as she turns away from me. 

I let her have the moment despite my desperation to ease her pain, certain that my comfort was the last thing she wanted in this moment. There was too much time between us for that and I was certain that there was so much more to the story than I could even imagine. 

“Doctor Blythe - I realize that - “ 

“You can call me by my name,” I snap abruptly, harsher than I expected. Immediately I close my eyes, my hand coming to rub my brow. This wasn’t possible.  _ Why was she here? Why after so long? Wasn’t she married and happy in Kingsport? What had happened? _

“I realize that this must come as a shock and I’m sorry for not providing you a warning but I didn’t know when I took this job that you were here otherwise I never would have - “ 

“Seen me again? Written me again?  _ Anne _ ,” I scold, knowing fully that my words would be best kept inside in this moment but unable to contain them. I try to breathe through the chaos in my mind, my chest aching as I watch her recoil at her name. 

“I apologize,” she whispers, her arms clasping tightly across her chest. “I don’t intend to stay past the school year. I’ll be gone as soon as the year is out, I promise.” 

Her words break a piece of me that I’d thought was lost long ago and I groan, stepping towards her and reaching for her. When she scuttles back, her hip bumping into a cabinet she nearly bolts out of her own skin, wildly looking around her. Before I realize what’s happening she’s yanking open the door and barreling onto the street, taking off like a frightened rabbit and leaving me to stew in my thoughts. 

I barely wait a few hours before I decide to press her arrival in the Glen, stalking up to her cottage as the sun dips lower in the sky. There’s a quiet anger that stokes my thoughts and when I rap on the door it’s a bit harder than I had wanted to, my movements getting away from the tight hold I typically had on myself. 

“Doctor Blythe, Miss Wright is unwell this evening. Perhaps you could come back another - “ 

“Mrs Baker - I apologize but I simply cannot wait to see her. Please let her know that I’m here and that - “ 

“It’s alright, Susan,” Anne calls from where she’s descending the staircase behind the woman, a large sweater wrapped tightly around her frame and her hair pulled back to reveal reddened eyes. She looks broken down, the black lines under her eyes deepened by the dimness of the evening. 

“Would you like me to prepare some tea, Miss?” Susan questions, her eyes never leaving mine. 

“That would be lovely. Doctor, please come inside.” I step through the small space that Susan grants me, shoving my hands in my pockets as I stand on the threshold of the small cottage. I watch as Anne moves closer, her mouth set in a tight line as she looks at me. 

Lifting my brow in silent question, I wait for her to start. Even though I was the one standing in her house I knew that launching into my barrage of questions would end with less answers than I had come for and that wouldn’t do. 

“Why don’t we go to the living room?” She offers, drifting through the doorway without further prompting. She settles in a high back winged chair, perching on the edge as I sit down onto the deep couch. 

“What shall I call you?” I whisper as we stare at one another, judging, evaluating. 

“Susan knows me now as Anne,” she replies quietly, her gaze falling briefly to the floor. When she looks back at me it’s with a fierce steadiness that I’ve never seen from her. “It became a necessity to tell her what was troubling me after I made her distract you at church.” 

“I thought that was what was happening,” I sigh, trying to settle in the cushions but growing anxious once more. I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees as I watch her in the low light. “I feel like there’s a story that I’m missing here and I would very much like to know what is happening, if you should feel so inclined to share it with me.” 

My words are formal, tight and controlled in a way that sound so unlike me. I know though that if I were to say what I was actually thinking I’d be thrown out of this house faster than a mouse in a pantry. So I choose to approach cautiously, swallowing back what bubbles up in my chest. 

“I came here for the position at the school. Like I said, I didn’t realize you were here,” she offers lightly, shifting on the seat and looking at the fireplace. 

“I’m not mad that you’re here, Anne. I’m confused,” I counter when she doesn’t add anything. 

“Well - I mean, I’m sorry that you’re confused. I never intended to - “ 

“ _ Anne _ ,” I sigh, rubbing my hands brusquely over my face. I couldn’t deal with this formality right now. It had been years since I’d seen her. Years since anyone had even bothered to mention her to me and now she was  _ here _ , in my town, with her beautiful hair gone and a paleness that spoke more than either of us would like to admit. “Where have you  _ been _ ? You disappeared after… After what happened in the orchard. I thought you were married in Kingsport to that Gardner fellow and you just show up here with a changed appearance and a new name. A name, I should admit, that gave you away - “ 

“I was married, Gil,” she interrupts, my eyes snapping up to hers. I nearly launch myself to my feet, my heart in my throat as I look at her. She was married. She chose someone else. It wasn’t just a rumour I’d heard, it was real. Here I’d been hoping for fate to bring us together and she’d already moved on. 

Everything hurts, I realize as I look at her, the colour rising in her cheeks as fresh tears pool in her eyes. I long to comfort her like I once had but there was no place for that here, not anymore, and all I can do is clear my throat and blink away my own tears at her admission. 

“Why didn’t you come to Marilla’s funeral?” The question escapes from me before I can stop it, my hurt lashing out and whipping against her as she gets once more to her feet. 

“You were there?” She replies weakly, standing and looking out the window with her back to me. Instinctively I move to join her, lingering over her shoulder as she presses her hand to the glass. “Did Rachel lay the dried flowers I requested?” 

“Yes. Why didn’t you come?” I press, watching as the emotions cross her face. Hurt and anguish fill her features and for a moment I think she’s about to collapse, her breathing so erratic that she has to gasp for air. 

“I couldn’t go. He said I couldn’t go so I left,” she whispers the last part, her shoulders shaking as the tears come thickly then. With her face pressed against the window I distract myself from her pain by watching the fog fill and disappear from the glass, wishing I was able to help her. 

“Will you come sit down again?” I ask after another moment as she starts to regain some of her composure. I reach my hand out towards her and she turns to stare at it blankly, her arms instead wrapping tightly around her waist. 

Susan brings in the tea as we both settle into the couch, a cushion between us but a distance that feels like miles. Though the tension in the room is thick, none of us mention it as we sip at the hot liquid in silence. When I lean back against the side of the couch and look at the girl before me, the one who’d been so fiery when we were growing up, I can’t help but notice that the fire is now out and her eyes are no longer lit with the intensity that had once been there. Her eyes are dull, her skin gaunt. She’s only an echo of the Anne I once knew, that much is clear. 

“Will you tell me your story?” I ask after a while, leaning on my hand and watching as she looks towards me. Her expression is stricken for a moment and then she eases her shoulders and sets down her tea. 

“I don’t think tonight is the night for stories,” she whispers tightly, casting her eyes down towards the floor. I bite my tongue, looking towards the fire and trying to tuck away the frustration I feel. 

“If not tonight, then will you ever? Or do you wish me to leave you in peace?” It pains me to ask it but I know it must be done. We had to agree on a way to go forward in this sleepy place we’d both landed in. 

“Gilbert,” she breathes, her eyes sliding up towards mine and pulling my attention back to her. A collapse happens behind her eyes, her chest heaving as she watches me intently. When her face crumbles, when her eyes close and the tears escape down her cheeks, I reach my hand out and grab for hers. 

“You’re okay, Anne. Whatever it is, you’re okay,” I affirm, clutching her hand to my chest and trying to soothe away her pain. My words only seem to increase her pain and when a sob breaks from her chest I reach for her instinctively. 

It’s the wrong thing to do. The absolute worst thing I could do, I realize as she stumbles off of the couch, her hands clutching at her corset and her frame tripping towards the doorway. Susan comes into the room at the noise, her eyes wide as she wraps Anne in her arms and soothes her hands over her back. 

Somehow I find myself on my feet, my tea staining my shirt as I watch things fall apart in an instant. 

“Doctor Blythe, I think perhaps it’s time you went,” Susan states, looking over Anne’s shoulder towards me. 

“Anne - I’m sorry - “ 

“Now, Doctor,” Susan snaps when I persist, my mouth hanging open. I nod absently and stride towards the front door, stepping into the cold night air and gasping for oxygen. Resting my hands on my knees I focus on my breaths before looking back towards the small cottage where behind the sturdy stone walls a woman I once knew continues to fall apart. 

With my hands yanking at my hair, I swear and turn anxiously in the yard, looking out at the night and trying to piece everything together. Nothing made sense. Nothing. And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, what would have made her recoil so quickly at the first sign of comfort. The questions plagued me all the way home and well into the night, concern and pain creasing in the corners of my mind at the life she’d led since we last parted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we really start to get into it. I hope you're enjoying, feel free to come connect with me on Tumblr at lollercakesff or drop me a comment :)


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a warning on this chapter due to the content as it deals with previously tagged items and difficult subjects.

I don’t see Anne for nearly a month, her door going unanswered and catching no sight of her in town when I’m not working. I’m not foolish enough to think of ambushing her at school but with every passing day I grow more concerned, more terrified that I’ve somehow pushed her further away. 

It’s ridiculous, I know, but still.  _ Was it possible to lose something you never had?  _ The question dogs me every night now. 

“Here you go, Doctor Blythe,” Elizabeth Collins chirps, looking up from the items I’ve purchased with a wide smile. I turn away from where I look out of the window to the store, my absent mindedness evident even now as I try to complete my weekly restocking. 

“Thank you Lizzie,” I pay and grab my bags, heading into the street to tuck the items safely in my saddlebag. I’m nearly to my horse when Susan steps alongside me, her hand catching my arm in a tight grip. 

“Doctor Blythe, I hope all is well with you,” she greets quietly, drawing my attention towards her. 

“Mrs Baker, how is Miss Wright?” I try to remain neutral, my voice cracking as the memory of that night flashes in my mind’s eye. 

“I would prefer not to say… Perhaps we may borrow you for a moment at the surgery if it’s not too much to ask?” Glancing around us I try to find her in the crowd, my eyes searching but eventually being drawn down towards the woman before me. 

“Yes - I could arrange that. Let me just settle my things and I’ll be right over.” Tucking my purchases into the bags I suck in a breath and close my eyes to think over what to say. I couldn’t afford a misstep this time - I needed to maintain my composure and try to offer her something,  _ anything _ , to help her with what she was working through. 

Coming upon the surgery’s building I watch as Anne shuffles along the walkway, her black skirts shifting in the wind and her face drawn. Even from a distance I can practically see the dark circles under her eyes, the sight of her causing me to rush forward. In the blink of an eye I’ve opened the door to the office and turned to take her arm, Susan’s hand snaking out to push mine away. I fight the urge to comment, stepping back as Susan helps Anne towards the examination room in the back. 

By the way she moves I know it’s not a social call, my stomach in my throat as I grab my medical bag and move to haunt the doorway as Susan gets her settled on the bed. “May I come in?” I ask, a stranger in this scenario looking in on something almost secret. 

“Yes. I’m sorry - I didn’t want to bother you but Susan insisted,” Anne whispers, her voice tight with pain. My mouth dries at the sound of it, the only thing saving me being my medical training coming to the forefront. 

“Don’t apologize - what’s going on?” I sit on the stool near the edge of the mattress and look up at her, watching as she closes her eyes and shakes her head. 

“I think I’m having a miscarriage,” Anne states evenly, opening her eyes to look at me head on. I have to fight to take a breath, my hands tightening on my knees instinctively. “I’ve experienced two before and they were quite similar to what has been happening this morning but Susan wanted to - “ 

“So you dragged her to town?” I snap and then exhale, closing my eyes. “My apologies - I only meant to question why you didn’t call me to the cottage?” I get to my feet and begin my examination, motioning for her to lay back and reaching for my stethoscope. 

“She is particularly stubborn, Doctor Blythe,” Susan says in return, careful to remain steady as she grips Anne’s hand. 

“Ah, so not much has changed then…” I pause and look towards Anne’s face, sympathy clear in my eyes as I remember the distance she’s put between any contact since coming back into my life. “Are you okay with me doing a brief exam? You can tell me about your symptoms as we go.” 

She nods and starts to describe the cramping and bleeding, the lack of monthly cycles that she’s experienced since coming to the Glen. I check her pulse and her temperature, the sounds of breath in her chest and sweep for any swelling in the abdomen. When she shifts upward to let me place my stethoscope at her back she groans and holds tightly to the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white. 

“And you’ve - this has happened before?” I question calmly though it pains me to ask. She nods and recites the months and years numbly, her hands rubbing anxiously over her wrists and throat until her skin reddens. “I do think that is what’s happening, based on what I’m observing and hearing here but I would like to check on you again in a few hours, just to be sure. Unfortunately - “ 

“Don’t say it, please,” she breaks in, her eyes snapping up to mine. “I’m well aware of my body’s repeated failures.” 

“I wasn’t going to say - “ 

“ _ Please _ ,” she breathes, her gaze hardening. I take notice of the way her back straightens and Susan steps forward protectively. Holding up my hands to show my surrender, I step back from the bed and look between the two women. 

“Mrs Baker, I would appreciate you taking Anne home and settling her into bed. I would also like it if I was permitted to stop by and check in again this evening…”

“You may. I do believe we would all sleep better if you did,” Susan replies and moves forward to help Anne back to her feet. I stand back and let them pass, following them out into the waiting area and watching as they straighten their clothing and bags. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to have the tea ready when you arrive - it’s getting colder out there now.”

“Thank you Mrs Baker,” I bid, settling the stethoscope around my neck and twisting my hands around it. They’re nearly through the door when I jog towards it, Anne’s step faltering as she looks back up at me. “I’m sorry,” I add quietly and watch as she smiles gently, eyes clear. 

“It’s sadly better this way,” she replies and then they’re gone and I’m left to place more unanswered questions on my growing list. 

When I arrive at the small cottage later that evening Susan opens the door before I even knock, her composure more welcoming than it’s ever been as she shows me into Anne’s bedroom without a question raised. I hesitate at the doorway, taking in the sight of the minimal decor and the lone carpetbag tucked into the corner. 

“You can go in Doctor, we’ve already discussed it and she didn’t feel quite up to getting out of bed,” Susan urges, leading me into the room and to a waiting chair at the bedside. She sets the tea tray down on the side table and leaves the room to busy herself in the kitchen. 

I settle myself into the chair and open my black bag to pull out my supplies, watching as slowly Anne’s eyes open and she looks up at me with a curious stare. 

“What?” I prompt when she doesn’t speak, her body shifting until she’s sitting up in her nightgown with a heavy sweater pulled tightly around her. It seems almost improper to sit here, next to her in bed, but I force myself to focus and treat her like any other patient I would care for. 

“I know you may think that this is difficult but I beg you not to hold it against me that I’m thankful for this,” she answers quietly, surely, her voice steady. I let her words sit with me for a moment, the evolution of my thoughts taking me through a whirlwind of feelings and dropping me back at her bedside. 

“I wouldn’t ever judge you for your feelings. I can only imagine what you may have experienced to make you thankful for something like this,” I try to reply neutrally, hoping my words don’t come out as prying for more. She looks up at me then, her grey-green eyes darkened in the low light. 

“We haven’t spoken in some time, Gilbert, and there are many things that have happened in my life that I’m not proud of,” she states formally and lifts her chin as I press my stethoscope to her chest. 

“It isn’t my place to evaluate your decisions but I do hope you know that if you ever want to talk about things, I’m here for you.” A silence spreads between us as I check a few more things, my thoughts focusing on the life she’s lived and the pain she must have suffered. 

“I wanted children, you know,” she pauses as I look up at her, her gaze averted. “I thought I would build a home for them and they would be so loved. But then this… This happened and I thought that maybe it was the world telling me I wasn’t ready. And when it happened again I  _ knew _ that it was a sign that I wasn’t meant to have kids. I wanted them too much, I think.” 

The heartbreak in her voice is almost palpable, my own throat forming a lump as she shifts uncomfortably under my watch. “Did your doctor provide you with a diagnosis when you saw him for the first two?” 

Shaking her head slowly she glances up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “The first doctor never talked to me, he would only talk to my husband in the next room. Something foolish about me being too weak to handle the news. The second one was a bit kinder. He told me when we had a moment of privacy that I likely couldn’t have any children. That hurt more than you could believe, to hear that.” 

“Anne,” I whisper, watching as a range of emotions cloud her expression. She looks away abruptly and inhales a shaky breath, settling herself. “There are many reasons why this may keep happening to you but none of them are your fault. I need you to know that.” I withdraw my hands and tuck them in my lap, watching as she moves the hair over her shoulder after a quick nod. I can see the red starting to return to the roots of her hair, the dull change of the colour apparent through the dye. “Why black?” I ask as my fingers find her pulse in her wrist, my questioning determined to lighten the mood.

Her eyes light up for the briefest of moments before a small smile passes over her lips, reminding me of the girl I once knew. I knew she was still in there, somewhere, just tucked away under all this pain. There she was a little less broken, a little more vibrant. “It was the first colour I could think of that would make me blend in,” she replies honestly, lifting her shoulders. 

“It doesn’t do you justice,” I admit and wait for her to snap back at me, tentative in my approach. She only sighs and looks up at me, like she’s trying to tell me something but coming up empty. “Though if you were trying to join the Wright family, I guess it’s spot on.” 

That gets a laugh out of her, a small bark that brings colour back to her cheeks. “Is my name really that telling?” 

“Oh, for me? Yes. When I heard the given name that you were using I nearly choked on my dinner. I had no idea that it was you but ‘Cordelia Wright’? For anyone that knew you it would raise some red flags for sure,” I chide, my voice lilting as she smiles up at me. 

“I asked Diana if she would mind terribly if I used her name when I came here. She was the only one I wrote to after - I mean… After.” Her body tenses and her brow furrows as she looks away, a shadow passing over her expression. With her hands twisted in her lap I shift in my chair, uncertain how to proceed and continue talking with her. “I believe I owe you some sort of explanation,” she breathes after a moment, her gaze focused on the window. 

“You don’t owe me anything, Anne. But if you would like to tell me I will listen to you without judgement,” I promise and inch closer in my chair, desperate to ease her mind in any way I can. 

“My husband was not who I thought he was when I married him. I had idealized some of his traits and after the wedding it all came to a head. After my first miscarriage he - “ she swallows tightly, her gaze averted. “He hurt me. I told myself it was just the emotions running high. That we both felt them so brightly that he got carried away. But it was like a dam broke and it just happened again and again. I tried to rationalize it. I wrote to Marilla but I never sent the letters. I - I even went to the train station once but he came and got me before the train left.” 

“Anne,” I whisper, hoping that her name pulls her back from the memories that she’s sinking into. It works, if only for a moment, and she exhales harshly. 

“When I still couldn’t give him an heir it just got worse. I tried to leave but I never had enough money to get back to the Island and home. I was alone and stuck and every time I tried he just found me again and again.” 

I swallow back the words of anger that fill my mouth, clenching my hand around my stethoscope until it bites into my palm. My bright and shining Anne, the hopeful girl with dreams and an imagination that ran wild, was forced into submission and had had to fight her way out. I couldn’t fathom the type of person that would do this to someone, to her. 

“Why didn’t you ever ask me for help? You had to have known - “ 

“Gil,” she interrupts me, her eyes sharp. “Even if I’d known where you’d ended up, did you truly believe that I would come to you for something like this? After everything?” 

“I once offered to slay dragons for you, Anne Shirley,” I remind her, hoping to break the tension that’s sparking between us. She can’t bite back the smile at that, her eyes rolling as she pulls her knees to her chest below the blanket. “I would have come for you. In a second, I would have helped you,” I add quietly after a moment, pensive. 

“Marilla would have too. She would have sold the whole farm to come get me if she’d had to. That’s why I finally was able to get away. When I got Rachel Lynde’s letter I fell apart. I pleaded with Roy - “ 

“Gardner?” The clarification clips out of me before I can stop it, the truth slapping me in the face as she nods slightly. I feel it hit me like a rock, settling in my chest and rolling over me with her confirmation. Some small part of me had hoped it had been any other man that did this to her, at least then I would have been unable to stop it. But I knew Roy. I knew when they were courting and I did nothing. The shame that floods into my chest is numbing and I have to focus as she presses on.

“Roy wouldn’t let me go to her funeral and I lost everything when that happened. I had to leave then and it happened so quickly. I told his mother that I wanted to surprise him with a nursery crib and I used that money and the small amount I’d hidden away to get on a boat back to the Island. It was a terrible journey but when I arrived in Charlottetown I connected with Diana and explained what happened. I don’t even understand how she made it work but within a day she had arranged for a position for me and assured me I wouldn’t ever go back.” 

“But why change your appearance? And your name?” I ask foolishly, drawn into her storytelling like all of the times before when she’d entranced me. 

“He’d found me before. I couldn’t be Anne here. What if he comes looking for me? Or sends someone looking for me? How many redheaded Anne’s do you think there are on this small rock?” She scoffs, waving her hand and tucking her chin into her knees. 

“Are you still afraid he’ll find you?” The question settles between us and she adjusts, slow to address it. 

“It’s been only a few months. I’m glad I’m ill because I’ll have no connections to him now, but I do think about it. Every night I think about what will happen when he finds me,” she admits and hides her tears in her sweater sleeve. 

“He’ll never take you, Anne. Not ever,” I swear, settling my hand next to hers but not daring touch her without her action. I’d learned from the last time, from what she’s told me. Touch was not a kind memory to her right now. 

“You can’t promise that, Gil,” she breathes before linking her pinky with mine. A small bridge in a world of pain. 

“I can. I am.” It comes out of my mouth so confidently that I nearly don’t believe it myself, my old habits of being ready to give everything almost stunning me into silence. I decide then I need to break the tension if we were ever going to find a new normal. “I am glad you shared this with me, Anne. I promise it’s safe for you here and that I won’t share this with anyone. Can you just tell me one thing though? Why you have been avoiding me? I mean,” I pause and chuckle as she looks at me plainly, an eyebrow raised. “Why did you run from me those first few times we came across one another?”

She smiles slightly and looks away, shrugging. “I’ve tried to stay out of your way, I will admit.” 

“You’ve actively avoided me and used Susan to distract me. I’d say that’s a little much, even for you,” I add with a grin and shift myself an inch closer. 

“Fine. I concede. I was scared to see you. To tell you why I was here, looking like this and using a fake name.” The truth of it settles in my gut like a rock. I try to not let it drag me down, smiling through the hurt that rings in my body at her words. 

“Why would you be scared to see me?” I force from my lips, watching as she sits up straighter. 

“Because we never really left off on the right foot, I don’t think. After… What happened in the orchard we didn’t really talk. And I guess that made me nervous about simply showing up in your town and making a place for myself here.” Her voice drops as she finishes, her hands busying themselves in her lap. 

“That’s partly my fault,” I whisper after a drawn out moment, running my hand through my hair and scratching at the back of my neck. “We were friends and I closed myself off from you. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“What’s in the past…” Anne surmised quietly, her eyes flicking up to mine and then darting away as quick as they’d come. The silence between us drags on, our tea cold by the time she’s able to look at me once more. “It’s getting late.” 

Nodding, I get to my feet and reluctantly move towards the door. I still have questions, hundreds, thousands of them, but they can wait for another night I tell myself. We have time. 

“I would like to see you again. Definitely to ensure you’re okay after today… But outside of that too. Would you maybe be okay with that?” I ask as I stand near the door, my bag in my hand and my jacket slung over my arm. She grins and shakes her head, looking up at me with a lightness I hadn’t seen yet from her that night. 

“As long as you refer to me by Miss Wright, I shall humour your request,” she counters and I nod in return, the name unfamiliar on my lips. 

“Really though,  _ Cordelia _ Wright?” I tease, my gaze never leaving hers. 

“I needed something to disappear into and you know I always had a fondness for a dear Princess Cordelia,” she says and leans back onto her pillows, pulling her sweater across her chest in a marked change. “Goodnight Doctor Blythe.” 

“If I’m going to call you by your chosen name you at least have to call me by my given name,” I remark as I step into the hallway. Her spark of laughter follows me down the hall and Susan meets me at the stairwell, showing me out with a careful smile. “Mrs Baker, please let me know if anything changes in the next day or so. I’m only just up the road.” 

“Understood, Doctor. Thank you for coming this evening. It’s the first time I’ve heard her actually laugh since she got here,” Susan remarks and closes the door as I step into the yard. 

I take a final look up towards her bedroom window, a quiet anxiousness filling me as I head towards home.


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short one today, sorry folks.

The next few days have me twisted up inside. Part of me is glad that Anne is back in my life, even if just peripherally. The other part of me can’t stop thinking about the life she’s lived since I distanced myself from her. 

She’d experienced an entire lifetime without me. Had courted, married, found herself lost and alone. The man she’d married hadn’t understood the importance, or hadn’t cared enough about it, to let her go to Marilla’s funeral. What kind of man did that? What kind of man doused her fire instead of building it? 

When Anne and I had stopped talking she had been in her prime, young, beautiful, a passion for learning and an imagination that couldn’t be stopped. It had been the reason I’d been so in love with her, why withdrawing from her had taken everything I had and left me gutted. But the man she’d fallen for instead of me… He’d wanted to capture her and keep her for his own selfish reasons and he had held on so tightly, had clung to the power of it so forcefully, that in the process he’d starved everything that made her shine so brightly.

It pained me to think about it but I couldn’t stop. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to make her come back to life and be the girl she once was. I couldn’t go back in time and change things but I could move forward and try to find the pieces of her that she’d dropped somewhere along the way. 

I could be her friend. I could do that for her, even if it hurt. 

“Gilbert, I’ve been talking to you for nearly five minutes now,” Michael groans, snapping his fingers across the table at me. “I was trying to tell you my deep dark secrets and you just ignored me. I’m hurt.”

“Oh, come now! You know that’s not true!” I counter and shake my head, mirth lighting up the man’s face. “You do have to remind me what we were talking about though…” 

“What has come over you lately? It is like you’re lost in thought far more than usual.” 

“Probably because I am. The practice has been busy and I’ve been trying to figure out a few things for a friend of mine but it’s proven to be a bit difficult, I will admit.” Michael smiles, his eyes lighting up at the door I’ve just opened. 

“A friend, eh? What kind of friend are we talking about here? Perhaps a lovely one?” He whispers conspiratorially, leaning forward in his seat. I feel my cheeks heat as I look away, biting my tongue. “Ah - I see, I see. Well isn’t this a spectacular turn of events…” 

“Michael, please. It’s not like that,” I lie. I lie so clearly that my ears burn with it. 

“Yes, well of course it isn’t. Clearly you turn this shade when you talk of me to your other non-existent friends!” He boasts with a puff of his chest. I shake my head and cover my face, sighing into my palm.

“Why don’t we circle back to this another day?”  _ When my head isn’t spinning _ , I think to myself, desperate to get away from this line of questioning. For a moment I think he’ll press on, his mouth opening widely and then pausing, before he sits back and watches me curiously. 

“Fine. I’ll give in for now,” he agrees, looking me over once more. “But do keep me in the loop when you propose, will you? I love a good wedding.” 

“It’s not - “ I start and freeze, my eyes lighting on Anne a few steps away as she looks over at us. In an instant she’s turning back to the cashier, collecting her items and tucking them against her chest before hurrying through the door. I sit with my mouth agape as she goes, half a mind to go after her but stopping when I see her disappear down the street. 

“Gilbert, are you referring to Miss Wright?” Michael prods after watching me with keen eyes, his logic putting the pieces together easily. 

“Michael…” It slips out as a warning, my voice breathy as I look down at the table. 

“I feel there’s a story here that you’re not sharing and while I understand you don’t want to speak it now, I will tell you that the look of utter defeat on your face as you watched her go was quite possibly one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever had to witness,” he says, shifting anxiously in his seat. “I hope she isn’t being too hard on you - “ 

“She’s not - I mean, she isn’t - “ I sit back and rub my face, looking towards the door to the shop once more and groaning. “It’s complicated.” 

“Aren’t they all?” The statement sits on the air between us, heavy but honest. 

“I knew her a long time ago and she’s had a rough go of things since then. I won’t discuss it but I will say I’ve been trying to find a way around the difficulties and it’s not easy,” I admit finally. He watches me quietly, waiting out my thoughts. “For example, I’m worried now that she’s overheard you and will spend the rest of her life angry at me. It’s probably an exaggeration, but that’s where I’m convinced we’re at.” 

“I doubt that highly. But if you would like to go find her, I can settle up here,” he offers softly. I shake my head and sit up straight, meeting his gaze.

“It’s fine. Let’s continue to discuss the practice’s finances to get my mind off of it.” 

We settle into a rhythm after that, Michael pulling out the records and going over the expenses with me. Neither of us mention the odd sighting or how it had tinged the room with a sense of uncertainty. When eventually we wrap up and step out into the street, Michael is the first to clap his hand on my shoulder and pull my eyes towards him. 

“I know it’s not my place but I wanted to remind you that great things are never easy. If it’s meant to - “ 

“Fate has already reminded me, Michael,” I sigh, smiling as I look towards the direction of the schoolhouse. He chuckles and gives me a light squeeze before turning to head on his way. 


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. You guys, I'm super glad you're enjoying it so far! Thank you for commenting, kudos-ing, subscribing whatever!

The December air slips through the door of the cafe and skitters across my skin, chilling me as I sip at my tea and make notes on some of the files I’ve brought with me. I’ve tucked myself into the corner table in an effort to get some real work done before the day is out, if only to have time to make my house presentable to welcome Bash and Mary and their three children for the holidays. 

Christmas had come upon me before I even realized, the cooler temperatures and a flu bug going around compounding my workload so that I barely had time to eat, let alone think about how the people around me were doing. How  _ Anne _ was doing. 

Though we saw each other more regularly now - she’d admitted she’d stopped trying to avoid me as of late - there was still a tightness in the way she held herself back when she was near me. I tried not to notice, tried to keep my thoughts from getting caught up in it, but it was a challenge I had to concede. She was an enigma now, reserved and quiet, prone to quick escapes and terrified of a touch from anyone but Susan. 

That was the hardest part for me to wrap my head around. Every time I moved in a way that signaled I intended to do more than the briefest contact she flinched away, recoiling to a distance that was impossible to miss. I couldn’t blame her - it was improper for me to even try - but old habits were hard to break, even after all this time. The only time I was permitted to really get close was during our check-ups after her illness and even those were moments where I was Doctor Blythe and nothing else. 

I worked hard not to take it personally, to keep my hands tucked in my pockets and in a place where I wouldn’t be tempted, but sometimes it was hard to stop myself from trying to comfort her, especially on evenings after school where she stopped by the surgery simply to sit in silence and wait for Susan to finish the weekly shopping. 

Those instances were always the most vexing. She would knock on the door lightly, almost as if she was hoping I wouldn’t hear and then proceed to sit quietly in the waiting room as I worked on paperwork. 

One evening I made the mistake of asking her about it, hoping to understand why she chose to sit with me rather than shop with Susan, or even be at home. Turning to me with the most broken look I’d ever seen cross her face, she sighed and got to her feet. 

“I prefer not to be alone, is all,” she’d replied and left without a goodbye to head back into the street. 

I hadn’t dared ask her more after that, simply letting her keep company with me when I was in the office and giving her the space to be at peace whenever I could. It was an odd arrangement, I knew, but I couldn’t turn her away after I everything I’d learned. If she found safe harbour in the surgery then I would let her have it without question. I could do that for her. 

Sighing, I look down at my notes and huff out a breath. The words were scattered and slanted and my eyes hurt from focusing on the pages for the last few hours. 

“More tea,” I murmur, recognizing the solution before covering up the pages and moving to slide my chair back. 

“May I sit with you?” Anne’s quiet voice says over my shoulder, my gaze snapping up to where she holds two cups of tea in her hands. I nod and watch as she settles down across from me, her face nipped red from the cold. “This is for you,” she adds and moves the teacup towards me quickly, sighing when the tea slips over the edge and onto the table.    


“Thanks,” I reply and move my papers out of the way, tucking them in my folders and looking towards her with a small smile. “How are you today, Miss Wright?” 

She shrugs and lifts her tea to her lips, her eyes dropping to the table. “Well enough, I suppose.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. I guess the school semester is almost out? Are you looking forward to the break?” I ask as an attempt to bring her out of the shell she typically hides in in public now. 

“Yes - it finished up yesterday. I’ll miss it but I am looking forward to a few quiet days to read by the fire, I will admit,” she adds with a low chuckle. The sound of it brings a smile to my mouth and I relish it for a moment. She didn’t laugh often and whenever I managed to get it out of her it made my heart swell with pride. 

“Glad to hear that. I’ve heard good things from the students in the area which is high praise since they’re notoriously hard to please,” I offer and settle in for what I hope will be a conversation that sets our regular silence aside. “Do you have any plans for the break?” 

She shifts in her chair and looks at the table. “Susan has invited me to her daughter’s home with her for a week but I don’t want to impose on them. I think I’ll just take the time to do some lesson planning and enjoy the peace and quiet.” 

Her words catch me by surprise and before I realize it my mouth is moving with an offer I won’t take back. “Why don’t you spend Christmas with us? Bash and Mary are coming for the holidays, I’m sure they’d love to see you again.” 

Sitting before me her shoulders tighten and she freezes, like a deer caught out early in a field. The colouring in her cheeks pales and she blinks, looking stricken. 

“Do they know I’m here?” She breathes, her chest rising and falling quickly. I see the panic rise in her and I try cut it off before it starts, sitting up straighter and looking at her head on. 

“No - nobody does. Cordelia…” I wish I could reach for her. Wish I could say her real name and bring her back from the edge but know that it would do more harm than good. 

“Are you sure?” It comes out cracking before she exhales forcefully, shaking her head and looking away. I can practically see herself pulling back from the anxiety that’s clouding her reaction. 

“One hundred percent. I only offered because I know you hate to be alone and I don’t - I can’t bear to think of you alone on Christmas,” I whisper so that only she can hear, my hand sliding across the table with my palm up signalling that I’m here if she wants my comfort. Her hand shifts from the teacup and her fingers graze across mine, the lightest touch giving me hope. 

“Will you talk to them before - before I come? Will you explain? I couldn’t… I mean I don’t want to ruin - “ 

“You wouldn’t ruin anything, ever, I promise. They’ve missed you all these years. And I can discuss it with them when they get here so they understand why - why you’re you now.” I stumble over how to talk about her secrets without giving anything away. Though Mrs Lynde is far away back in Avonlea, I know there are others in this small town who would feed on a good story just the way she had while we were growing up and I was determined not to let that happen. 

“I don’t know,” she says quietly after a moment, withdrawing her hands into her lap and leaving me reaching for her. Though I want to draw back with the rejection I force myself to stay open to her, desperate for her to see that I’m not hurt by what she needs from me, or even by what she doesn’t. 

“Well, we’ll set a place for you anyways. We will eat at four and then attend the service that evening. Bash always loves the caroling part even though he can’t sing at all.” She laughs at that, relaxing more with each mention of Bash and my family back in Avonlea. 

“It sounds wonderful, Gil. I do sorely miss home. Diana invited me to spend the break with her family but I don’t think it’s wise to go back yet,” she admits lowly, glancing around the small cafe with her practiced eye. I look too, recognizing each of the faces in the room and understanding the constant awareness she has for her surroundings now. 

It strikes me then that she must miss Avonlea dearly, her self-imposed exile causing her loneliness to amplify. She had no one this year, not even the charade of family she had with Roy. Marilla was gone and visiting Diana wasn’t yet something she deemed feasible, the risk far outweighing a few days by herself. Though it troubled me I tried not to let it show, choosing instead to focus on the memories from past Christmases and particularly the year when Bash first came to Avonlea. 

“We won’t be able to top Diana’s Christmas I’m sure but I promise you’ll enjoy some good island food, at the very least.” She looks up at me at that, a smile lighting her features. 

“Let me think about it. I should be getting on now - Susan planned to leave this evening and I said I’d see her off at the train.” Anne finishes her tea and touches her fingers to my hand once more, glancing up at me shyly. I smile back at her and curl my fingers into my palm, bringing hers with them. She doesn’t pull away and I could burst at the thrill that jolts through me. 

“Wish her well for me,” I say as she eventually withdraws, getting to her feet to wrap her scarf around herself tightly. 

“I will,” she promises and disappears through the door, the cold wind from outside cooling the blush from my features as I watch her go. 

* * *

“Bash! Mary!” I shout as they disembark the train, their hands full as they wrangle children and luggage onto the platform. The kids immediately follow my voice and crash into my legs, nearly knocking me over as I laugh at the impact and drop to my knees. 

“Uncle Gilbert!” They shout in unison, the twin girls Hazel and Martha grabbing at my arms and little Seb jumping for attention in front of me. 

“I’m so glad to see you! You’re all growing so big!” I exclaim heartily, pulling them all in for a tight hug. 

“Papa says you say that because you’re never home to see us,” Hazel mumbles into my shoulder, her words causing me to laugh abruptly as I look up towards Bash. 

“He does, does he?” I grin and stand up to embrace Bash and Mary in a long overdue hug. “I’m so glad you guys could make it. I couldn’t get anyone to cover to go home so - “ 

“We know, you don’t have the explain it to us again,” Bash laughs, ruffling my hair and pulling Mary tightly to his side. “Besides - they loved the train ride, even if it was a bit much for the other passengers.” 

“Stop, they were fine!” Mary sighs and lifts her hand to my cheek. “You look different than the last time we saw you. Tired still, but there’s something else…” 

“I bet it’s a girl. He always gets that dreamy look when - “ Bash teases before Mary slaps his shoulder to hush him. 

I pause and smile, shaking my head and turning to lead them to the sleigh I’ve prepared outside the station. “You’ll never guess who’s here,” I say as we walk through the busy station. 

“If you tell me it’s that An-” It’s my turn to shoot him a look, his lips closing halfway through the name at my expression. The kids stumble into me at the abrupt stop and Mary looks between us, her brow furrowing. 

“Maybe we’ll talk about this all at home, alright?” She interjects and I nod, motioning us once more towards the exit and onto the sleigh. When we’re all settled in I steer us home leaving the horde of people behind. 

Once back at the house I let them settle in and busy myself with preparing the tea, so used to waiting on myself that when Mary shuffles in a few moments later I’m surprised when she chastises me for going to the effort. 

“You’re my guest, Mary, of course I’m going to make you all tea,” I hiss as she slaps my hand away from the stove. 

“Really - don’t you have a housekeeper for this yet? You’re a doctor, you can’t be expected to run a home and work at all hours! Maybe that’s why you’re so exhausted,” she chides and begins setting the tray full with the bakery items I’d purchased for their arrival. She tuts at the pre-made sweets, shaking her head as I remind her that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. 

Later, after Mary prepares and serves supper I insist on letting them focus on getting the children to bed while I prepare a nightcap. When we settle into the small parlour later that evening, the warm scent of aromatic food still lingering in the air, I breathe a sigh of relief at having my family here. 

“What has you so happy lately boy?” Bash starts abruptly, running his fingers along Mary’s shoulders in that annoyingly affectionate way that I envy. “I figure you wanted to tell us since you brought it up at the station.” 

I clear my throat and smile softly, thinking of how best to bring up the topic with them after all this time. There was no doubt that they would be happy to see Anne but I wanted to be sure I would do it right. The history between us was thick enough already and I needed my family to understand that it wasn’t like before - they couldn’t tease us like they used to, or imply anything of the sort because I knew it would make her uncomfortable, if not abrasive like a cornered animal. 

No, they had to get it. I had to figure out a way to make them understand. 

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Mary says when my pensive look turns soft. 

“Yes.” Is all I can say as I turn over what’s next in my mind. Bash sits up and leans his elbows on his knees, chin in his hand. 

“I thought she was married to that fellow from the College,” he mumbles as he watches me shift, concern apparent in his gaze. Though Bash had always been pro-Anne, the truth was really that he was pro-Blythe-happiness, first and foremost. His concern was for the hurt that I had opened myself up to with seeing her again, his worry that it would drag me back down to the half-living person I was in school. 

“She was. But…” I pause uneasily, hesitant to share her story without her being here. I wanted to prepare Bash and Mary for seeing her again, seeing the changes in her, but I didn’t want them to know the details of it all - not without her telling them herself. “It didn’t work. She’s - she’s here but nobody is to know that it’s her. She’s going by Cordelia Wright and is teaching - “ 

“Gilbert,” Mary sighs, watching me carefully. There’s a sadness in her eyes that I can’t miss. 

“She had a rough time of it, Mary. I don’t want to go into the details but she’s different now. She’s still kind and caring but she isn’t the same person so I don’t want you to be surprised and ask her a lot of questions because I’m afraid that she’ll get upset,” I admit and shake my head, blinking back a rush of feelings. When I look up it’s Bash who gets to his feet first and pulls me into a crushing hug. I feel myself come apart as the man holds me tightly to his chest, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. 

We stand there for a few moments, the surprise at my own tears wearing off as I eventually pull away and rub at my eyes. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding all of this in since I saw her in the window’s reflection that first day. I’d stuffed it away, hidden the relief and the worry and the reality of her story into a place where I didn’t have to process it. But Bash had always had a way of showing me with just a look that I could tell him things that I wouldn’t tell anyone else and this had been no different. He was my brother, my family, and he understood me better than almost anyone else in this world. 

“You’ve loved that girl for a long time,” Bash says as he eases back down onto the couch before tucking Mary into his side sweetly. She wipes at her tears and slides her arm around his shoulders, resting against his chest and watching me slip back into my chair. 

“I invited her to Christmas dinner. I probably should have asked - “ 

“Don’t be silly, of course she’s welcome,” Mary chuckles and sighs, looking at me curiously. “Is there something else? Something going on between the two of you?” 

“No. And I’d prefer that we didn’t bring anything like that up. I just - with Marilla gone I didn’t want her to spend it alone. Can we just pretend that all of that stuff in the past is just that - in the past?” I urge them to agree, my expression pleading. It was this or it couldn’t happen - I wouldn’t let the past come back to haunt us. 

“You have our word, right Bash?” He nods and smiles, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Promise. Although I am thinking perhaps we’ll need to spice up dinner a bit since we’ll have guests. Do you think she’d appreciate some crab callaloo, if we could find the ingredients?” Bash offers, rubbing his hands together excitedly. 

The rest of the evening passes quickly, familiar and comfortable conversation and joking making me feel more relaxed than I’d been in a long while. When eventually we all head to bed I do so with a lighter heart, one actually looking forward to tomorrow and having everyone together for the afternoon. 


	8. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but painful one. I'm sorry.

The phone wakes me in the wee hours of the morning, ringing from the kitchen and causing me to stumble out of bed and down the hall to grab it from its rack. Bash finds me with groggy eyes, confusion apparent as he looks up at me. 

“It’s alright - go back to bed. Yes - sorry, I’ll be right over,” I say into the phone and move swiftly down the hall to my room. Bash comes to lean in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watches me get ready.

“Will you be back in time for dinner?” He rumbles, yawning.

“I don’t know - the patient has been having a difficult pregnancy so I don’t know how long it’ll take. If Anne does show up - “ 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be like she’s coming home, that’s all that matters, right?” He interrupts. His clarity of mind surprises me and when I take my coat and scarf from his hands I can’t hold the burst of happiness from showing on my face. 

“I couldn’t ask for a better family to have,” I admit and he laughs, slapping my shoulder as I step past him. 

“We’re the family you chose and you’ve always been good at picking them. Good luck - we’ll keep a plate warm.” 

I hurry off to the birth and spend the greater part of the day there, helping young Harris Murphy into the world. Though he’s early, he still looks healthy enough to have a good chance of it. It’s his mother who worries me and keeps me at the house for a few extra hours, working to ensure she makes it through the evening as best I can. When there’s nothing more to do but wait the family sends me home, promising to call if anything changes throughout the night. 

Heading home I try not to focus on the probabilities of survival for Mrs Murphy or the dinner that I’ve by now fully missed. Instead I choose to think about the warm bath I’m going to draw for myself while everyone is at the service and hope everything went alright this afternoon. 

Stepping through the door I’m caught off guard by the happy scene before me, Bash, Mary and Anne all sitting at the table as the kids sing off-key Christmas carols to them before the stove. The smiles on their faces and the colour in Anne’s cheeks makes my stomach flip pleasantly, my laughter coming out heartily as the kids stop mid-tune to crash into me. 

“You’re back! Can we eat now?” Seb shouts, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the kitchen. Anne meets my gaze as I stumble into the kitchen, her smile slipping as she looks me over. 

It’s then I remember what state I must be in, my clothes rumbled and stained. I must look a frightening mess, though neither Bash nor Mary say a thing. But Anne’s face says it all, her skin going pale at the reminder of her own experiences. 

“I’m going to change, please don’t go,” I blurt out, disappearing down the hall hastily. Mary comes chasing after me, a towel in hand. 

“I’ve got hot water on the stove ready and we can quickly draw you a bath. You’ll just have to hurry - the kids are hungry and there may be a mutiny if they have to wait any longer for dinner,” she says quickly, helping me pull together the bathing items. I grab her hands when she flutters past me. 

“You don’t have to - “ 

“Stop it right now, Gilbert. Everything’s ready, I’ll bring the water and you just get yourself settled okay? I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.” Her knowing look makes me smile, thankful that she understands more without me having to say a word. 

I rush through the quickest bath I’ve ever had, scrubbing under my fingers and along my arms until the skin turns red. When I finally finish the last button and hastily return to the dining room it’s to find the table set with a marvelous centerpiece that makes my meager dishware look misplaced. Around the table the group waits, patiently chattering about life in the Glen and tales of the school children that make the twins giggle brightly. 

“It took you long enough!” Seb shouts as I enter the room, his faux insult making me laugh as Bash hushes him. I sit at the remaining chair beside Anne, sneaking a glance towards her as she finishes telling a sweet tale to Hazel across the table. 

“Miss Anne made the centerpiece out of things she found in the woods. Isn’t it lovely Uncle Gil?” Martha says across the table as Mary starts bringing hot dishes in from the kitchen. 

“It is - almost as beautiful as the women at this table,” I reply lightly and watch as the girls’ eyes light up. Bash scoffs as he sets down the remaining dishes, tsking me as he slides into his chair. 

“Come now, I am just as beautiful as Miss Anne here!” He scorns, laughing as the group chuckles. 

“Fine - the women  _ and _ Bash then,” I amend. I chance a sideways glance at Anne as she shifts in her seat, her eyes darting towards mine and then back to the table quickly. “Alright - I bet we’re all hungry. Hands together then we eat.” 

“Finally!” Seb groans and takes his sisters’ hands for prayers. 

We dig into the meal heartily and the conversation lulls, each of us filling ourselves until our stomachs are near bursting with the feeling. Setting down my fork with finality, I look around the table and smile, my heart thumping heavily in my chest. 

“Thank you all for waiting for me,” I say quietly, touched by the fact that they didn’t eat and go to the church service without me. Though they had every reason to, it was wonderful to find them home when I got there and I was so thankful for that. 

“Of course we’d wait for you,” Mary exclaims, sitting up in her seat. “We had lovely company to keep us entertained so it didn’t feel like time had passed at all! I’m so happy you could make it today Anne, really.” 

Beside me Anne shifts and smiles, looking at Mary with soft eyes. “I’m very happy I came after all. Seeing you again, meeting these little ones… It’s lifted my spirits remarkably,” she adds and rests her hands on the table. 

I see it happening in slow motion as Bash gets to his feet, his hand coming to gently rest on Anne’s shoulder without warning. In an instant she’s on her feet, her chair knocked back against the wall and the children all staring at us with fear in their eyes. Bash withdraws like he’s been burned, holding up his hands before him as he turns to focus on her with a neutral expression. 

“Come now - it’s just me, just Bash,” he states carefully, soothing his voice as we watch her recoil against the wall. She’s breathing heavily, the panic cutting through her as she closes her eyes and tries to calm herself. I get to my feet slowly and Mary pushes past me, shoving Bash and me towards the door abruptly. 

“All of you go, leave us!” Mary instructs and stands protectively before Anne, watching as we leave the room in a confused state. Hazel and Martha start to cry as we enter the parlour, Bash pulling them into his chest in a tight embrace as I gather Seb close to me. 

“Did you hurt her Papa?” Seb asks after a moment, his little face peeking out of my chest towards his father. 

“No, Sebastian, he didn’t hurt Anne. She’s just…” I pause and try to think of the right word to explain to him, one that would convey the painful experience to a child. “She’s not used to soft touches yet,” is the best that I can do and Bash smiles sadly, pressing kisses to the tops of his daughter’s heads. 

“Oh,” Seb says after a moment, looking up towards me. “Maybe I can show her that they’re not scary when Mama lets us back to the table.” 

Laughing sadly, I tighten my arms around the boy and envy his view of the world, one that can be solved by things as gentle as love. “Maybe another time, Seb. I’m not sure she’ll stay for the rest of the evening.” 

“I don’t want Miss Anne to go!” Hazel shouts from her place in Bash’s arms, her face indignant. “She was telling us funny stories and she didn’t finish the one about this boy she used to fight with in school!” 

My heart cracks at this and my breath catches in my chest. I didn’t want her to go either. This didn’t have to be how this went. Her memory of this Christmas didn’t need to be filled with pain, not if we could do something about it. 

“It’s okay Hazel, we’ll see her again another time,” Bash whispers, brushing his hand through her curls. He doesn’t say that she’ll stay, his own certainty on the topic unclear. I can see the regret in the look that he gives me, his eyes closing tightly with shame. 

The door opens after the silence in the room becomes deafening, Mary stepping into the space with Anne’s hand tangled tightly in hers. I look up at them with worried eyes, my chest hurting as I look at Anne’s tear-stained cheeks. 

“We’ll have dessert now then,” Mary announces brightly, glancing around the room and tilting her head for Bash to join her in the kitchen. The children separate themselves from Bash and I, Seb careful as he approaches Anne who’s come to sit on the couch. 

“May I hold your hand, Miss Anne?” He questions softly, looking up at her. 

“Well now, that’s not a question I get asked often,” she replies and smiles down at the boy, outstretching her hand towards him. He grabs it eagerly and climbs onto the couch beside her, tucking their hands together against his chest. 

“Uncle Gil says you’re not used to soft touches and that wouldn’t do around us. Papa says love speaks through our hands and when we love someone we don’t want to let them go. So this is me telling you I don’t want you to go, okay?” He states matter of factly, my cheeks burning as she looks up at me with a question in her eyes. In another second it’s gone and she’s pulling the boy into her lap, hugging him close and tucking her head into his neck. He laughs and fights as she starts to tickle him, rolling off of her and back to his side of the couch.

“Thank you, Seb. That’s just what I needed,” she admits lowly and watches as the little boy beams back up at her. The twins are next, pulling her to her feet and dragging her down the hall to the guest room where they’re staying. 

I’m not invited to join them and I take the opportunity to find Mary and Bash in the kitchen, their whispers barely audible until they glance towards me 

“Gilbert,” Mary sighs, her expression pained. “That girl has - she’s just… 

“I know,” I reply sadly, meeting her look of despair. “She hasn’t told me everything but I know enough. I should have warned you.” 

“Warned us? You didn’t need to warn us. She needs us. You should have called us here sooner,” she chastises and drops the spoon she’s using, the clattering of it on the dish echoing throughout the kitchen. I rub my hand across my face and look at them silently, trying to convey my thoughts without words. 

“I think what Mary is trying to say is Anne needs love now more than ever,” Bash interjects, looking between us before picking up the spoon and finishing dishing out the crisp dessert. 

It hurts to hear it and I nod absently, the pain riddling through me. I couldn’t help her. I hadn’t since I first found her in this town. All I’d done was make it more difficult for her and I didn’t know how to change that, or if I even could. I was lost. 

“Oh, Gil,” Mary breaks into my thoughts, pulling me against her in a bone crushing hug. The woman had always been able to see my thoughts, even before I realized them myself. She had a way with seeing people and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her, holding onto her like a boat tethered in a storm. “You’re doing alright. You’re helping. You are. But she needs to feel safe again and that’s only going to come with time, honey.” 

“It’s all my fault, Mary,” I whisper into her shoulder. “She never would have experienced that if I hadn’t cut her out of my life.” 

“It isn’t your fault, Gil,” Anne says from behind me, her voice steady. I withdraw from Mary’s embrace and turn to her, surprised to see her in the doorway. “Don’t confuse what happened in our past with the reason this all happened. I won’t have it. It’s not our fault. It’s his. Only his. It took me long enough to realize it and now that I have I refuse to let anyone else take the blame but him.” 

It strikes me again just how smart she is, how brilliant this woman is that stands before me. How strong and brave, resilient. How she’s a survivor. “Anne,” I murmur, stepping towards her and half expecting her to withdraw. When she doesn’t I hold out my hand towards her, palm up, and wait to see if she’ll reach for me in return. 

Her fingers entwine with mine and we stand there, a world of space between us but my soul so close to hers that I can practically feel her heart thudding slowly with mine. It only lasts for a second, a brief touch, but one that ends almost as quickly as it started. When she pulls back it’s with a forced smile on her lips, her eyes lifting towards the pair behind me. 

“I believe dessert was promised,” she chuckles then and with that the mood of the evening is lifted, the Christmas celebration bringing us closer than I could have ever imagined. 


	9. Eight

Mary and Bash leave just before New Years, the house emptying on a cold winter’s day and leaving me to stir alone in a building that housed so much laughter and love. I long for work and a reason to get out but the phone is quiet, even Mrs Murphy not requiring any follow up since the birth on Christmas eve. 

Eventually I find myself saddling my horse and heading towards town, seeking out anything to keep me busy for the afternoon. It’s there I find Michael and Sarah doing some shopping, their friendly faces beckoning me towards them as they walk hand in hand down the street. 

“Dear boy, how was your Christmas? We didn’t see you at the service!” Michael greets, eyes questioning as I shift my bag on my shoulder. 

“It was wonderful, really. Family from Avonlea came over and it was so good to see them again. We all missed the service on account of the Murphy baby,” I reply lightly and they both nod, gauging my answers. 

“Well, that is to be expected in the life of a doctor I guess! We’re actually so pleased to meet up with you today - we’ve decided to hold a little gathering for New Years and we simply can’t miss having you attend!” Michael exclaimed, brightening once more. 

“Oh - that’s very kind,” I reply, shifting on my feet and debating whether to ask who would be in attendance. I look between the two of them carefully, chewing my cheek before swallowing thickly. “I was wondering - who - “ 

“Why of course you could bring a guest!” Sarah counters enthusiastically, pressing her hand to her husband’s chest. “Wouldn’t it be delightful to have the doctor bring someone, Michael?” 

The man nods and I close my eyes, a smile coming to my lips. “I was only wondering who would be in attendance,” I correct, looking at her head on. 

“A couple friends from town, one or two families from our old community. We do have quite a name for ourselves when it comes to New Years, I must admit. But if you’re worried or wanting to spend the evening with someone special, please bring them along, we’d be so happy to meet them!” Sarah continues babbling and Michael chuckles knowingly.

“Dear, I think he understands your point,” he says with a smile. I breathe a sigh of relief and nod my head instinctively. 

“I’ll try to make it. Thank you for the invitation but I must be on my way to the cafe before it closes.” I bid my goodbyes and make off towards the building at the end of the street, careful to disappear inside before the Turner’s can make any more assumptions on my relationship status. 

I order a tea and biscuit, settling myself into one of the seats near the fire as I debate whether to ask Anne or not. It’s not unknown in the village that Susan is still away and though I’ve been meaning to talk with Anne since Christmas Eve the opportunity hasn’t yet arisen. 

Sighing, I pick at my biscuit and stare into the flames with warring thoughts running through my head. Though it had been difficult for a moment, overall Christmas Eve had gone well. Anne had come out of her shell a bit more, had almost been the girl I once knew when she was with the children. It had been hopeful to see and I’d wished, selfishly so, that she would be like that all of the time. 

But reality was different. She had demons. Dragons. And I wasn’t sure I was big enough to be the one to slay them, no matter how hard I tried. There was almost too much history between us now for me to be the one she needed, or ever. 

“May I sit here?” Elizabeth Collins asks kindly, motioning to the chair nearest mine by the fire. 

“Sure,” I reply and watch her settle onto the cushion lightly. She glances up at me and smiles, her eyes bright. 

“How was your Christmas, Doctor Blythe?” She questions as she sips her tea. 

Shrugging, I look back towards the fire and answer her politely. “It was well - and how was yours?” 

“Oh, it was splendid. Father closed the store early and Ruth came home with her husband for a few days. It was so good to see them again and she had such exciting news - she’s pregnant you see, so we were all happy for her of course.” Her voice lights and she sighs contentedly with the story.

“That does sound like a good Christmas. Please pass on my congratulations to Ruth.” 

“I will. Say, I just met the Turner’s down the road and they’ve invited me to their New Year’s celebration and they mentioned you were going. Would it be too forward of me to ask if you would escort me? You see my father - he wouldn’t let me - “ She stops up short when I see a figure over her shoulder look towards us, my face going pale as I recognize Anne frowning in her dark skirts. “What is it Doctor?” Elizabeth questions, shifting in her seat as I get to my feet. 

Anne disappears out through the door of the cafe before I can even take a step, my coat and tea abandoned as I chase after her. Though neither of us would admit it out loud, it was clear to those in the cafe that as soon as I stood from my seat and left after her, something was going on between us. 

“Cordelia, wait!” I shout down the sidewalk, watching as she walks quickly away. I hurry after her, slipping on the ice and crashing to the ground with a thump and a groan. My fall finally catches her attention and she turns to look at me, her face surprised. She takes a few steps back in my direction as I move to my feet once more, clutching my wrist in my hand. It was definitely sprained and the throbbing had already started. 

“Doctor! Are you alright?” Elizabeth shouts, my coat in her hands as she kneels down beside me. I look up and catch sight of Anne pausing and stepping back, betrayal clouding her features as she takes off. 

“I’m fine,” I mumble, taking my jacket from the young woman’s arms and hissing at the pain in my wrist. She reaches for my hand and I pull it away abruptly. “I’m sorry Lizzy - I can’t escort you to the party. I hope your father lets you attend anyways but I really must go now.” 

I step around her and head to my horse, my hands dumbly working to loosen his reigns. I struggle to climb up but somehow manage it, taking off out of town and towards Anne’s cottage. 

“It isn’t what you think,” I state when she opens the door, niceties abandoned as I take in her flushed cheeks and her eyes wide with surprise. 

“And what is it that I think, Doctor Blythe?” She counters harshly, steeling herself towards me. 

“I was trying to figure out how to ask  _ you _ to the party. Lizzy just happened to have worse timing than me,” I offer and watch as her expression shutters. I don’t know what to make of the pause she takes and I say a small prayer when she opens the door slightly to let me inside. 

“I’m sorry I ran away like a child,” she says once I step into the kitchen, watching her pace next to the stove. “I don’t know what came over me. I should have been more like an adult and remembered I have no ownership over you. I’m sorry to have embarrassed you in town.” 

_ Was that jealousy in her tone? Where did that come from? _ I wonder to myself, watching her shift under my gaze. “You didn’t - that’s not why I’m here. You’re my friend, Anne, so I want to go to the party with  _ you _ ,” I sigh, trying to catch her eye. 

She looks over at me and frowns. “Why?” 

“Because you’re Anne. Because I want you to feel safe in this town and the one way I know how to do that is to help you meet the people of it. It doesn’t have to be anything more. It can just be us, as friends, enjoying a night in the company of good food and good people. Come with me, please,” I finish quietly, my eyes locked on hers.

There’s a drawn out silence as she turns it over, her arms crossing and uncrossing over her chest as she changes her mind repeatedly. Finally she closes her eyes and nods, opening them to look at me with a measured look. 

“Is your wrist hurting?” She questions while inside I’m jumping, leaping bounds of joy so high that I can barely feel the ache. “Let me look at it.” 

That sentence shocks me out of my distraction and I stuff down the surprise as she takes my hand in both of hers. It’s the most contact we’ve had in years, apart from my medical exams, and her touch feels otherworldly against my skin. 

Her fingers move slowly, checking each finger before sliding across my palm and to my wrist. I wince as the pain riddles up my arm and into my shoulder, drawing back despite my heart shouting at me to stop. 

“Yes - it’s definitely sprained. It’s fine though, really. I’ll wrap it when I get back - “ 

“And how do you propose to do that properly with one hand?” She interrupts, looking at me plainly. Marilla’s aged sensibility shines through her for that briefest of moments and I can’t help but smile. 

“You’ve got me there,” I admit and shrug, meeting her gaze with mine. 

“Let me wrap it before you go and I’ll sleep better tonight.” 

“Okay. But tell me really - are you coming with me to the party?” I try not to sound too hopeful, afraid of making her change her mind. 

“Yes.” She replies shortly and I exhale, lifting my arm and offering my aching hand to her willingly. 

“Good. It’ll be fun, I promise,” I add as she draws me further into the house. My boots track slush across the kitchen but neither of us seem to mind as she pulls out a chair and eases me into it. “Now, I’m going to let you do this but I don’t want you to get any creative ideas, okay? You have to follow my instructions on wrapping it, I don’t want you ruining a perfectly good appendage because you got too fanciful with it, you hear?” She nods and leaves the room laughing, loud, joyful laughs, and I feel like I’m on cloud nine. 


	10. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel it would be remiss after reading Shore of Dreams again to neglect acknowledging my brain's inadvertent reference to that story in some components of Soft Touch. While this story is indeed mine and the main aspects are original, it definitely has some similarities that I won't deny after comparing the two (mostly the setting in the Glen and the presence of side characters). I hope this isn't perceived negatively as it surely was not intended to be - the author of that work is far above whatever I could create and her works are absolutely splendid. If anything, I would say that my brain has created a fanfiction of canon and this other piece of amazing fanfiction (that has clearly become canon in my head) and I highly urge you to go read her works. Again, this was not intended and I hope this story will continue to stand on its own as it plays out to the end. If you're still with me, you're wonderful.

The party is loud, raucous and so unlike the Turner’s that I think we’ve entered the wrong house as we step inside the open parlour. Kids race through the throng of people, ducking and shouting as they chase each other throughout the house. I turn to Anne and measure her comfort, trying to perceive her thoughts through her mask of indifference and find myself surprised to see a look of sly comfort in her eyes. 

“I was always quite good at parties, Gilbert,” she breathes, touching her hand to my arm before leading the way between groups of people and into the kitchen. I follow her blindly, trailing after her and trying desperately not to lose her as she moves easily in the crowd. Somewhere in the house a band is playing and I smile, my spirits lifting with each step. A happy Anne was so unusual these last months that I was excited for what was to come of the night. Change was in the air and I had a front row seat.

“You made it!” Michael beams as we find our way towards the table where various drinks and snacks are scattered across an extravagant spread. 

“I did! Thank you for having us,” I return and accept his hand in mine quickly. 

“Us? Tell me you brought her?” My expression gives me away and Michael spins on his heel, looking around himself quickly. “Where?” 

Taking his shoulders I turn him slightly until he’s facing where she’s tucked herself into a corner, a small glass of punch in her hand and one of the Stewart clan keeping her company. “There,” I state before following him through the crowd towards her. She looks towards us as we break through the people, her smile widening as she catches sight of me. 

“My dear Miss Wright, don’t you look lovely tonight!” Michael rumbles over the crowd, leaning towards her so he can hear her response. She says something lowly and he guffaws, turning back to me with a grin so broad it nearly cracks his face. “This one - Gilbert, you have found yourself a match!” 

“We’re just friends, Michael,” I reply loud enough for Anne to hear, just in case the man’s comments make her uncomfortable. We were just that, friends, and I didn’t want to scare her off with anything more.

“Yes - and Sarah only ever accompanied me to parties as ‘friends’ too,” he sighs and turns back to Anne, starting a line of questioning that could take all night. She waves me off with a look and I wander about the house, giving her space to acclimatize to the people of the Glen that she’s hidden herself away from. 

The evening flies by, time moving and shifting in an odd way until soon Sarah is leading the group outside into the cold, her children passing around candles to everyone as the snow falls softly around us. I look for Anne in the crowd, her raven hair freshly dyed for the occasion blending in well with the people and making her hard to spot above everyone else. Swearing under my breath at the unfortunateness of her giving up her fiery locks, I make an effort to sift through the faces until I land upon her near the edge of the crowd, her face stoic.

“Cordelia, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” I greet, handing her a candle I’d grabbed from Clarence in my search. She looks up at me without a smile, her face grim. 

“Everyone! It’s nearly midnight so please, give me your attention for a few moments!” Sarah shouts above the lull. I turn to face Anne full on, concern beginning to dawn on me as she ducks her head. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping between her and the group for a moment as she looks away. 

“It’s nothing. Let’s just listen,” she whispers, stepping around me carefully and turning her attention towards Sarah. Forcing out a smile, I try to pay attention as the ceremony they’ve arranged is explained even though all I want to do is turn back time and fix whatever stole Anne’s smile this evening. 

The gist of the idea is simple and I’m thankful it’s easy to remember, my attention wavering as I hold the candle loosely in my wrapped fist. Sarah explains happily that the lit candle becomes a New Year’s guiding light and at the stroke of midnight we think of a wish that the light will guide us towards throughout the year, blowing out the candle to seal the wish. In another moment we’re lighting our candles from those around us and joining the countdown, our voices mixing in the crowd. When we get to zero we blow out the flame and I try to think of something else to wish for but settle for Anne’s happiness, whatever it may be. While everyone around us pairs up and shares a New Year’s kiss, I find myself flying when she meets me halfway and willingly draws my hands into hers, placing a light kiss along my knuckles out of sight from the distracted group. 

“I’m very happy you brought me here this evening,” she whispers as the crowd begins to disperse back into the house. We linger in the cool air a moment longer, our bodies close but untouching except for our fingers still linked together. 

“I’m pleased you came. I hope you enjoyed meeting everyone, even if it was a bit overwhelming,” I admit, unwilling to part just yet. I enjoyed being here, with her, too much to just let it go so quickly. 

“It wasn’t overwhelming - this was everything I’d hoped it would be and then some. I am quite tired though, so perhaps I should head home,” she pauses and looks up at me, her hair fluttering in the wind as she opens her mouth to say something and then stops. 

I lift my bandaged hand from hers and raise it to her brow, pausing a few inches away before she closes her eyes and leans into my touch. I graze my fingers across her temple and behind her ear, savouring the feel of her against my hand as she releases a shaking breath. 

“Will you walk me home, Doctor Blythe?” She asks softly, looking up at me with those shining grey eyes. 

“I was so hoping you would ask,” I reply haltingly, smiling with delight as we head towards the house to collect our coats. We make quick work of it and depart through the kitchen, heading down the path towards her cottage with stories of the evening to keep us company. 

“You know, I heard what you told Seb about me on Christmas Eve,” she admits as we round the bend towards her home. I suck in a breath and look down at her, my fingers tightening instinctively in hers. 

“I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have assumed - “ 

“No, I’m not upset. I reacted poorly and it - “ 

“You reacted how you did because you’ve been hurt!” I hiss above her words, a spark of anger at the man who’d made her feel like this. Swallowing my tirade I close my eyes and force myself to exhale, squeezing her hand in mine. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” 

“Gil,” she breathes and slows her step to look at me, her palm lifting to my cheek in a moment so familiar and yet so ancient that I can barely process it. Her touch feels like heaven and I’ve missed it so much that I nearly stop breathing as I lean into it. When she pulls away it’s with a small sigh that makes me open my eyes once more. “You were right. I’ve forgotten what a soft touch is. But you make me want to remember.” 

Her words stun me and all I can do for a moment is stare down at her, frozen in time as my mind spins. There was an olive branch extended here and I couldn’t push it away. “Anne,” I whisper eventually, leaning towards her and clutching her hand tightly in my own as she looks up at me. 

“I’m not ready though,” is all she can reply before she pulls away slowly, stepping back and looking up at me with a steady gaze. “Not quite yet.” 

I force myself to nod though my heart aches with the loss of her once more.  _ What had I been thinking, leaning in like that?  _ “That’s okay,” I murmur and stand up straight, my hands running through my hair as I release the breath I’d been holding. 

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Gil. Thank you,” she bids before turning to walk quickly towards her door. I watch as she goes inside and starts to light the lamps in each room, my heart hammering in my chest at all of the possibilities that now lay before us. 

When I fall asleep that night it’s with a hopefulness that I haven’t felt in a very long time. 


	11. Ten

Life in the Glen returns to normal before I see Anne again. Though she still lingers in my waiting room every now and again, it’s usually to visit with me rather than because she fears being home alone. Susan returns soon after the new year starts and sees a marked change, her own words telling me so when she stops by one afternoon while Anne is teaching. 

“I don’t know what happened while I was away but thank you,” she says stoically, standing before my desk with her purse clutched in her hands. “That girl was the walking dead before I left but she’s coming out of her shell more every day. She won’t admit it but every time she mentions the time you spent together she gets a silly look on her face and she becomes a different person. It’s quite the change, Doctor.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve enjoyed our reacquaintance too, if I must admit,” I reply and lean back as the woman continues to watch me. Sensing that she’s not done, I sit up and ask, “But there’s more, isn’t there?”

Susan nods and looks around us as though sure that another person is in the room. “I don’t want to sound too protective but I feel like she won’t mention anything if I don’t speak up. There’s a new man in town. He was at the Turners’ party but we can’t figure out who brought him or where he came from. Doctor Blythe, I know you don’t want to get tangled up in this but I’m worried it could be them.” 

“Them?” I question before things start to click into place. Jerking to my feet I come around the desk and look closely at the woman, concern bubbling in my chest. “She never mentioned anything to me the night of the party - “ 

“No she wouldn’t, would she?” Susan sighs, shifting on her feet under my scrutiny. “He didn’t threaten her or anything. She just told me she had a feeling about him. I’ve never been one for paranoia but with everything she’s said about her past and that man - that bastard - I feel like maybe overreaction isn’t unhealthy in this case.” 

“What can you tell me, Susan? I know the family who held the party - is there a name or someone I can ask them about? In all confidence of course,” I promise and Susan pulls a paper from her purse, handing it to me. 

“She said his name was Thomas Hughes. He had a beard and black hair. Apparently he told her that he’d wished she was a redhead.” 

My face pales at that and I have to lean heavily against my desk, my fingers nearly crumpling the paper in my hand. “Word for word?” 

“Word for word,” Susan confirms tightly. I shake my head and swear under my breath. 

“Thank you for coming to me. I’m going to talk to the Turner’s and see if they know Mr Hughes. If anything else strange happens, will you find me? You have my number, right?” She nods and turns to leave, her feet pausing at the door as she looks back at me. 

“If he comes for her, what do you suppose we do?” Susan asks clearly, her voice hard as she looks at me. The woman is prepared for battle, her posture tight and her shoulders squared. 

“He’s never taking her back, Susan. Not ever,” I reply with certainty. Though I’ve no idea what I’ll do to prevent it, I’m convinced without a doubt that Anne will never go back to that house so long as I’m alive. 

Susan accepts that with a brisk nod and then steps out into the cool winter air, the gust of wind that hits me doing little to calm the heat of the anger that bubbles within me. I don’t wait to close up the surgery and track down Michael at the bank, sitting in his office as he settles affairs with a customer at the desk. 

Stewing in my chair, I shift uneasily until he steps into the room and closes the door, his brow furrowed. “What’s bothering you, Blythe?” 

“Thomas Hughes - do you know that name?” I ask plainly, straight to the point. Michael sits forward and scratches his neck, thinking. 

“It sounds familiar but I don’t know from where. Could be a case I handled here, or a news story I read somewhere. Why? What’s got your back up?” 

“There was a man at your party going by that name. I’m trying to track him down is all,” I answer and return to my feet, buttoning up my jacket once more. 

“I can ask Sarah tonight about him but I can’t think of a reason why a stranger would be there. We didn’t invite anyone we haven’t already had over for dinner,” he confirms. I nod and attempt a smile. 

“It’s okay. We still had a great time. I don’t think I thanked you yet - so thank you.” 

“Our pleasure. You got her home alright? Were a gentleman?” He laughs as I shake my head in disbelief at his question.

“Of course I was. Pass my greetings onto the family - “ 

“You can pass them yourself next time you come over. And do us a favour, bring that girl of yours. I want to meet her properly before you propose to her.” 

“That isn’t… Michael,” I sigh and turn away from him, exasperated by his teasing but desperate to hide my telling blush. 

“Have a good day, Doctor,” he shouts as I step through the doors to the bank and head back down the street. I stop in the cafe and grab a tea, carrying it back to the surgery to continue working for the rest of the afternoon. 

As the evening rolls in and the oil runs low in my lamps I pack up my things and head for home. I take my time getting there, trotting my horse along the edge of the treeline and taking in the beauty of the early sunset. When Anne’s cottage comes into sight I slow and watch for a moment the light flickering in her windows, the curtains drawn tightly and shadows moving behind them. For the briefest of seconds I wish I were inside, warming myself by the firelight and listening to her and Susan moving through the kitchen together. 

With a heavy sigh I urge my horse onward and go through the motions of turning him in and settling home for the night. The house is cold when I step through the front door, my mind following patterns when I gather up wood for the fireplace and set the place to start warming. These are the days when I wish for a housekeeper or someone to keep the hearthfires burning, the small pleasures of sharing the household duties with with someone else. 

I spend the evening in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket and turning over the possibilities that lay before me. Who Thomas Hughes is and whether when Anne said she wasn’t ready  _ yet _ if that meant someday or never. They were concepts too abstract to make any real progress on but I tried nonetheless. The state of things at the start of this year was both promising and discouraging. If there was a future for Anne and I, I wanted to start on it immediately. We were already aged well enough and we’d used up so much time… 

“You must be patient,” I grumble fitfully as I discard my dishes in the sink. I crawl into bed later with thoughts of how to proceed spinning on repeat. I couldn’t just rush into this, I knew that much, but I also didn’t want to let it slip through my fingers. Anne was brought back to me by fate and I wouldn’t let our histories build walls. I loved her still and I couldn’t let her go, not yet. 

Shoving those thoughts aside I drift off to sleep with questions about Thomas in my head. Who I would ask and who would know where he’d come from or why he was here. This was the subject I needed to focus on, all other things would soon fall into place. 

* * *

 

“I’d like you to stop asking about Mr Hughes,” Anne says one day as she sits in one of the waiting room chairs, her eyes turned towards the windows and her posture relaxed. I perk up at this, watching her for a moment as she gazes out into the low light of the day. 

“How did you know I was making inquiries?” I ask in return, setting my pen down to give her my full attention. She turns to me with a raised brow, patient as I squirm. “Fine - okay, I’ll stop. But why? Aren’t you curious about him?” 

“I am. But it looks too suspicious for both of us to be asking the people of a small town about the history of one man. If they start asking questions in return... “ She trails off and rests her chin in her hand, watching me. 

“Then why don’t you let me continue so you don’t have to?” I offer gently and smile as she simply scowls back at me. 

“This is my concern, Gilbert. I don’t need you to - “

“I know,” I interrupt, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. Her stubborn attitude reminds me of when she was just a girl arguing with me over coursework. “But I want to help you. And surely I know the people of the Glen better.” 

“That isn’t the point. It’s less assuming when a woman asks, especially a teacher. Everyone thinks we’re just a curious sort who want to know everyone. It’ll raise less attention if I do it. And besides, you won’t know when to raise any flags because you’ve never dealt with this before,” she finishes lowly, getting to her feet and brushing her hands down her skirts. She wears a pale grey today that matches her eyes, a red scarf hidden in her coat somewhere that had drawn my gaze to her rosy cheeks. She’d been beautiful when she’d come in from the frosty late January weather. I should have told her. 

“Anne, I want to take this on for you. Won’t you let me?” I say as I get to my feet, coming around the desk to join her. She hovers closer, looking up at me with a measured gaze that makes the blood rush to my head. 

“I can handle it, I promise. Please stop,” she asks with a sigh, her hand lifting to press against my chest gently. It steals the breath from my lungs and I know she can feel the way my heart skips at her touch. My hands reach up and wrap around hers, holding her touch to me for a moment longer. 

“Anne-girl,” I whisper in submission, relishing the feel of her fingers tightening in my shirt. “If you want me to stop, I will. But you must tell me if there’s something that’s bothering you. Promise me that,” I request and close my eyes as her breath slides against my neck. 

“I will. Thank you though, for being willing to listen. I don’t think you understand how much it means to me,” she adds. When I look down at her she’s skirting her gaze between my eyes and my lips, her own breaths coming in quick bursts. 

“Doctor Blythe!” The voice calls out as the bell over my door rings and Anne jumps away from me, stumbling back towards her coat and looking wide-eyed at the messenger boy who’s just come into the surgery. “Miss Wright! Oh, I’m sorry to burst in here but it’s the Murphy boy, he’s got a fever and Mrs Murphy is not well enough yet and Mr Murphy is going mad with trying to handle them both!” 

“I see - let me grab my bag and we’ll head over there now, shall we?” I state calmly and turn to grab my things. In mere minutes I’m ready to leave and Anne looks at me with her hand about her lips, her eyes stricken. “Will you lock up for me once Susan returns to collect you?” I ask, holding out my keys towards her. She nods slowly, as though in a daze, and takes the keys in her hands. Giving her a gentle smile I brush my thumb over her knuckles and then turn towards the door, following the child out into the street as I head towards the Murphy residence. 

I end up spending the night in their guestroom, a second pair of hands to Marcus Murphy who is nearly at wits end when I arrive. We sleep little but the situation eases as the sun eventually starts to rise, the baby’s fever lowering to a more acceptable number with every hour of care. Beth Murphy is another case entirely, her own health still wavering more than a month after the birth of young Harris. I look in on her throughout the night, checking her vitals and offering words of comfort as she attempts to sit up but finds herself unable to break out of the daze she’s in. 

“What’s wrong with her Doc?” Marcus questions when I eventually close the bedroom door to Beth’s room, concern etching my features. 

“I’m not quite sure. There isn’t anything physically wrong, that I can see. But she’s lethargic and withdrawn… I saw it a few times in the hospital and it was attributed to the trauma of the birth. The best thing to do in these cases is wait - continue to help her but understand that she may not be fully recovered for a while.” I could see my words creating a shadow over Marcus’ features, his worry becoming more pronounced as I continued. “It’s alright though, don’t worry, okay?” I attempt lamely, knowing there was nothing I could do to ease his burden. All I could do was continue to try to help as best I could. 

“Thank you for coming up here again. I know - I understand you’ve got a life and this is mighty intrusive - “ 

“It’s my job to help, Marcus. It isn’t a problem at all for me to be here and help your family so please don’t think that. Focus on Harris and Beth. Focus on helping them get better and that’s how you can help me, alright?” He nods and gives my shoulder a squeeze before disappearing into his wife’s room. 

I return to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea before I leave, setting a place for Marcus and preparing a tray for Beth. When it’s all ready I bid my farewells and head for home, walking slowly across the empty fields. I take my time as I go, exhaustion catching up with me a little more with every step. 

When I finally come upon my small house with its darkened windows I pause and look at it’s dreariness with a sigh. I long in that moment to be coming home to someone warm, to someone who would pull me into bed and tuck a blanket around us and spin soft stories of faraway places to lull me into sleep. I wish I were coming home to  _ Anne _ , I realize as I move towards the front door slowly. 

“An impossible dream,” I murmur to myself before trudging up the steps of my porch. In my daze I nearly miss the small basket next to the door with the little napkin draped over it, a letter tucked into its side. With a smile and a look towards the direction of the schoolhouse I bring the basket inside with me and pull the paper loose. 

_ Gil,  _

_ I hope you get these before the animals do. Thank you for hearing me today.  _

_ Yours, ACSCW  _

I look at where she’s scribbled out indiscernible letters and smile, looking over her acronym with a small laugh. She didn’t know how to sign it and clearly she was torn with what to write. My dear Anne was at a loss for words… The thought was sweeter than the jelly tarts that were tucked inside the small basket. 

With my belly full and my heart thumping heavily in my chest, I crawl into my own bed with a hot water bottle and let myself drift into pleasant dreams of a world which could have been.  


	12. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens in this long chapter, so sit tight. Thank you all for the continued love, it means so much!

The winter passes in the blink of an eye, the Glen starting to come alive as the spring sets in. Babies are being born at almost impossible rates and I find myself run off my feet more than once, both Susan and Michael cornering me regularly with food from their homes to keep me sustained in the long hours. 

Though I’m working every day I still manage to somehow see Anne at least once a week, her calming presence soothing as she comes to find me at the surgery late in the evening when the lamps are low and the wind shudders the window panes. 

“I miss you lately, you know,” she says quietly one evening on such an occasion, the late March storm raging outside making the effort to go home almost insurmountable. I don’t mind though - no matter how much I want my bed - because I’m not alone here. 

“What’s that?” I reply distractedly, looking up from my paperwork to see her sitting on the edge of my desk.  _ When had she gotten there? _ I wonder to myself, setting down my pen and getting to my feet instinctively to join her. 

“I said that I miss you and you just ignored me,” she huffs playfully, shaking her head and looking away. I clasp at her hand and draw it to me, bringing her attention back to me. Months ago this action would have opened a chasm between us, my touch having been like a burn. But we’d come a long way over these cold winter months and she finally didn’t shy away from my touch like she’d used to. It had been a bittersweet victory that I’d revelled in secretly, hopeful that it would stay like this forever. 

“I wouldn’t say I ignored you. Just that I was working on this form and you didn’t give me any warning that you were going to say something so sweet,” I counter and step closer to her, our bodies near enough to feel each other’s heat. 

“Well, I could argue that’s your fault for not paying attention to me when I come to visit you. That’s just poor manners, Doctor Blythe.” I glance down at her tiny smile, the way her eyes light up when they catch the light just so. I’m drawn to her so strongly that when I lift my hand to her cheek I do so without thinking about whether it’s too much, whether it’ll push her away. I just do it. 

And I’m rewarded by her quiet sigh, the closing of her eyes as she presses her own hand to mine to keep my palm against her. In another breath she’s resting her head on my chest, closing the distance between us and making my body sing with how she curls in closer. It feels almost too good to be true when she wraps an arm around me and exhales a shaky breath. 

“Anne-girl,” I breathe, wanting desperately to cling to her but forcing myself to remain still as she finds her home against me. 

“I’ve missed you, Gilbert. All this time. All of this forever. I’ve missed you,” she says with a broken voice, the crackle of it giving way to tears that soak into my shirt. I can’t fight it anymore and I wrap her up in my arms, my lips pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as I rock us in the dim light of the surgery. For the briefest of seconds I think she’s going to pull away as she freezes, her breathing catching as she slowly starts to relax in my embrace. 

“I’ve missed you too. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” I whisper against her forehead, my own eyes fighting back tears as her fingers tighten along my spine. 

“I was lost. I was stuck and in a world I didn’t understand and when I got here to the Glen I was so scared. But then you were there and it almost seemed like I could keep living. These months with you, just talking with you again after all this time… Gil, I didn’t know I could feel this again. I thought - “ 

“I know. I know, Anne,” I repeat wearily, leaning back and taking her chin in my hands so that I can look at her head on. Leaning towards her I pause, a breath away from her lips, and wait for her to close that last bit of distance. 

When she does it’s enough to make me stumble, lightheaded and full of disbelief as Anne Shirley kisses me in ernest. In my haste to be closer my hands slip, the space between my thumb and forefinger pressing against her throat and she cries out, slapping at my chest and pushing away from me before falling back onto the floor. I see the terror in her eyes, the feral look that passes over her features as she scurries back from me and grabs at her own throat as though she were injured. 

In the bleakest realization I’ve ever had I know exactly why she’d lurched away, my own hands having caused her to react instinctively to a memory that must have destroyed a part of her. My heart breaks as she crumbles, her hands coming up to cover her face as she turns away from me and leans against the wall as far from me as she can get. 

I fall to my knees as I watch her shudder and sob, my voice weak as I try to apologize. 

Our shattered tableau holds in place for what seems like forever, the hope from only moments earlier lost in one fell swoop. My own eyes leak hot tears as I wait in silence for her to still, for her crying to subside, the fear of making it any worse keeping me at a distance. 

“Gilbert,” she whimpers eventually, forcing her hiccuping breaths to slow. I watch her with care, my hands flexing uselessly at my sides. “Please, come hold me.” I don’t hesitate, not for a moment. I crawl to her frantically and draw her into my lap, holding her head against my chest as she cries heavily once more. 

We sit together on the floor until she runs out of tears to cry, her panicked soul softening with exhaustion as I soothe her with my hands. I hate Roy Gardner in that moment more than I’ve hated anyone before in my entire life. What had been such a moment of closeness between us had been ruined by a man who’d taken everything from her and left her with demons too vivid to escape. 

But still, I was here to hold her close. I was here to help her. There had to be some hope in that.

“You’re alright now,” I whisper into her hair, the light from the oil lamp flickering as it nears its end. In another second it’s gone and we’re left in the dark, clinging to one another as the evening moves and the storm outside continues its blustery fervor. 

When finally she stills, her fingers looped in the lapels of my shirt and her knuckles shifting against the skin of my chest, I allow myself to exhale and press my forehead to her temple. Our breath intermingles in the silence, our hearts thumping heavily in our chests. Her lips find mine on a whisper light touch, almost like she’d intended to speak my name without sound. 

“Gil,” she sighs, her hand pulling my head towards hers and deepening the kiss until I’ve no air and no will to live without her touch. She drags me onward, holding me to her and seeking out everything I have to give. As her tongue slides against my lips I gasp and allow her entry, my hands clinging to her hips as we get lost in one another. 

I don’t know how long we sit together on that floor, exploring each others mouths for the first time in so long that it feels almost like when we were young. 

“I love you,” I murmur eventually, my lips tracing across her skin in the places I know where thoughts of him still linger. I long to take those memories from her, to give her fresh ones with no pain, and so I set about my task with a devotion that makes her shiver under my touch. 

“I can’t say it yet,” she replies after a moment, drawing me back to the present and my own admission. I capture her lips once more with mine, a thumb moving across her brow slowly. 

“It still stands,” I answer with a soft smile, seeking out her eyes in the low light. She answers by burrowing into me tighter, her tousled hair playing against my chin and making my chest ache. 

Eventually my stomach growls and she pulls away reluctantly, moving to her feet and dragging me to my own. We stand still together for a moment longer, my fingers tangled in her skirts and her own exploring the expanse of my chest and making my skin burn with want. 

“I guess we should go home,” she says lowly, withdrawing from me and leaving me feeling empty. The choice in her wording makes me long for a future where we shared a home, where going home meant never parting from her. 

“Yes - perhaps we should. Did you walk here?” I ask as I step away and begin to gather my things in the dark. She pulls on her coat and I see her nod, the look she gives to the outside world almost furious. “Would you like to share a horse? I know it won’t look proper but I promise it’ll get you home in half the time.” 

She considers it for a minute, tucking her scarf into her jacket and pulling on her bright leather gloves. “I guess what we’ve done here wasn’t really that proper either, was it Doctor Blythe?” She says with a throaty laugh, my cheeks burning with the realization. 

“You’ve got me there. Horse it is.” 

We lock up the surgery and head towards the stables where my horse is already saddled and ready to go. I climb up easily and then consider the next step, weighing the comfort of my passenger. 

“Do you prefer sideways or straddling behind me?” I ask with a laugh, watching as she looks up at me with fear. “Both are perfectly safe. But you may prefer to sit up front with those skirts, it’s a better view and all…” 

“Because I’m worried about the view!” She scoffs and sighs, dragging over a stool and stepping up onto it. “You’re going to need to start bringing that buggy into town more regularly, Doctor Blythe,” she chides, reaching an arm out towards me. I pull her up onto the saddle before me, her hip resting between my thighs as she turns to look at me. 

I exhale tightly and look down at her, willing my body to behave as she shimmies closer. “Are you comfortable, Miss Wright?” I ask and gather the reins from around her. She doesn’t respond, her cheeks red and her hands tucked safely in her lap. “I don’t think you’ll be steady enough without holding onto something,” I murmur as I steer the horse towards the entryway. 

The bumps of the horse’s movements shake her abruptly and she gasps, wrapping and arm around my waist and tucking herself into my chest. 

“Better,” I laugh even though all I can think of is how I want her  _ closer _ . 

We head for home through the thick snow, her warmth against my chest so comfortable that when I eventually turn towards her small cottage it’s with reluctance that I do so. She seems to feel it too because instead of hopping down from her perch she only cuddles in closer for a moment, her hands tightly curled in my jacket. 

“I think Susan’s watching us from the kitchen window,” I mumble against her brow. She shrugs and burrows tighter, yawning as I run a hand along her side. “I don’t want her to think badly of me, Anne,” I continue, squeezing her hip in my hand. Lifting her head to look at me she blinks, her tongue darting out to graze across her lips. 

“She could never… She adores you,” she states evenly, watching as my cheeks flush. With a smile and a soft kiss she finally pulls away, slipping off the saddle and onto the ground with as much grace as she can manage. 

“The Turner’s are having me over for dinner tomorrow. Would you like to come?” I blurt out as she turns towards her front door, my words gaining me one more bright smile from her. 

“Yes, that would be lovely.” I nearly fall off my horse at the way she looks at me then, almost as if she were wanting me to chase after her and never let her go. Swallowing thickly I lift myself properly into the saddle and head for home, sure that if I were to stay a minute longer I would follow her into that cottage and up to her room without hesitation. 


	13. Twelve

_ Blythe, _

_ A man came looking for you in town the other day. Rachel Lynde stopped in to see us about it. Apparently he was asking your whereabouts… That he was an old friend from college. It didn’t sit right with me when Mrs Lynde was explaining it which is why I’m writing to you now. His name was Thomas Hughes and I think one of the folks in Carmody told him where you were working now. I hope you and that girl are as well as we are here. Bring her back for a visit over the summer, if you can, I’m sure Diana would love to see her. _

_ \- B _

I read the letter twice before I crumple it up and stuff it in the fire, my breaths coming hard and fast out of my chest. Thomas Hughes had shown up again but this time in Avonlea. It didn’t sit right with me, not in the least, and I debated whether to tell Anne about it or not. 

A part of me wanted to protect her from this, to stop it before it caught up to her but I knew that that wouldn’t do. She needed to know that this was happening if only to protect herself from anything that came for her when I wasn’t around. 

An hour after receiving the letter from the postman I saddle my horse and head towards the school, ready to wait for her outside to catch her before she leaves for the day. 

“Doctor Blythe! What are you doing here?” One of the Stewart boys asks me as the children come spilling out of the schoolhouse into their afternoon freedom. I smile and look up towards where Anne has followed them out, pleasant surprise colouring her features as she looks down on me. 

“I came to see my good friend Miss Wright - I hope you don’t mind,” I reply and step up the stairs hastily to join her. She looks at me with an odd smile, confusion apparent as I move into the classroom and wait for the children to finish exiting the front door. When they’re all gone she slides the lock closed and stalks towards me, arms crossed over her chest. 

“It’s mighty improper for you to just show up here, Doctor Blythe,” she states evenly, her eyes tracing up from my feet as I stand near the board. 

“You know, they let me teach here for a few weeks when I came to visit my uncle over the summers. It hasn’t changed much.” 

“That doesn’t matter - a gentleman caller visiting the classroom… The rumours that may start from this!” She insists, settling her hands on her hips. 

“Then I’m quite happy you don’t have a slate in your hands right now,” I admit and absently rub at the side of my head as I look at her. She swats my chest and begins clearing the board and tidying up the small room. “I received a letter from Bash today.” 

“Oh? Is everything well back in Avonlea?” She asks distractedly, her hands quickly starting to write tomorrow morning’s lesson across the blackboard. 

“Thomas Hughes was there. Apparently he was looking for me,” I answer and watch as her arms drop and she turns to face me, an unreadable look on her face. “Rachel Lynde heard about it in town and said he must have been an old classmate of mine but I’ve never heard of him.” 

“Did they say where you were?” Her voice is tight and I can practically feel her anxiousness rising in the small space. 

“They think someone in Carmody told them I’m here in the Glen.” 

“But he already knows you are… He was here,” she hisses, as though angry at the confusion of it all. I couldn’t blame her, it didn’t make sense to me either. 

“I don’t know what it means, Anne, but I wanted you to know just in case - in case it turns into something more,” I finish lamely and watch as she turns back to the board. Her writing becomes more fitful, her letters closer together and her movements more sharp. I can see the tension in her shoulders and I long to ease this burden for her but I know that I can’t. All I can do is be here for her, help her with whatever she asks of me. 

“It’s fine. It’s not him,” she says to the board eventually, brushing her chalked hands on her dress and groaning as she looks down at the white marks on her black attire. “This is why I never bought black dresses!” Her voice is shrill and she turns to me, tears in her eyes and her breathing heavy. 

I go to her without invitation, reaching to gather her up in my arms and then stilling as her hands shoot out and slap at mine. She heaves a breath and moans, clutching at her elbows as I step forward once more. She fights my embrace angrily, lashing out against me and struggling to breathe until eventually she falters, collapsing into my chest as the fight runs out of her. 

We stand together in the front of the classroom, my arms holding her as she eventually steadies herself. When she draws back it’s with a sad smile on her lips, her throat struggling to swallow back tears. 

“It’s going to be alright,” I promise quietly, brushing her hair away from her face. She nods quickly and steps back, turning back towards her desk and looking down at her notes. 

“I’m going to finish up here and then head for home. Thank you for telling me.” I watch as she slides her mask back into place, the vulnerability gone as she refocuses on her work. With admiration I nod and head towards the door, glancing back and catching her soft smile before slipping out into the schoolyard. 

The next week takes a century to pass, our worries about Thomas Hughes going unsolved as we stay alert to any changes in the town. Our fifth dinner with the Turner’s goes well but even they can see the stress between us, the way we cling to one another’s company despite the safety of the warm home. 

On Sunday evening I’m making dinner and tea for myself before settling in front of the fire with a book to read. It doesn’t take me long to drift off to sleep, awoken only by the sound of the telephone ringing in the next room over. In standard practice I bolt to my feel and hurry to reach it, a calm demeanor coming over me as I prepare for the case on the other end of the line. 

“Gilbert, can you come over?” Anne’s voice sounds shaken, her words breathy as she speaks into the phone. 

“Anne? What’s wrong?” I press, thinking through all of the possibilities and feeling the panic in me rise.  _ What if our suspicions were correct? What if - _

“I need you to come over. Please.” She whispers before hanging up abruptly. I rush to gather my things and take off out the door, coat barely on and medical bag in hand, just in case. I make it to her cottage in record time, huffing as I knock on her door and collapse through it as Susan opens it to me. 

“You’re here, good!” Susan exclaims, hustling me into the parlour and sitting down quickly beside Anne on the couch. They look at me with wide eyes, Anne’s hands shaking as she holds a letter up to me. 

I take it from her carefully, the envelope wet as I pull out the letter from inside. 

_ Anne, _

_ Finally this letter has found you. I hope you’re well. If you’re reading this know that I’ve received notice from Mr Hughes that he’s located you and I’ll be coming to bring you home. Do make this easier on both of us darling and prepare your things for transport home. See you soon.  _

_ Your loving husband,  _

_ Roy _

I nearly vomit as I read the note, my skin crawling as I look down at Anne who’s perched on the edge of the couch. Her body vibrates with the stress that racks through her, shoulders tucked into her ears and her face in her hands. 

“When did you receive this?” I ask slowly, crouching down before her. 

“This afternoon by post,” Susan confirms, her arm wrapping around Anne’s shoulders protectively. The girl curls into her, sobbing as the tears finally break free. I feel like crying myself and shift instinctively closer to her, wanting to wrap her up in my arms. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” I promise though I know I shouldn’t. I can’t control life, though I’ve made it my vocation to try. “Tonight you’ll stay at mine - both of you. And we’ll figure it out tomorrow. Go now, get your things.” 

I return to my feet and urge them off of the couch and to their respective rooms. In the kitchen I pace back and forth, my mind spinning through ideas that will keep her safe. The best I can come up with that will protect her is continuing the charade and leaning into it, denying to any other newcomers her identity and solidifying her as another person altogether. 

“Marriage,” I murmur, my voice tight as I think it through. 

If we could marry she would officially be recognized as Cordelia Wright, soon Cordelia Blythe. No longer Anne Shirley, absolutely no more Anne Gardner. The courts would be on our side if he tried to force her home without proof.

“We’re ready,” Anne states as together the women re-enter the kitchen. We leave and walk in silence back to my house, tracing through the blossoming paths and heading inside to find the fire low and the house cool. I show them their rooms and stoke the fire, waiting as they settle in. Eventually Anne rejoins me, sitting down beside me on the couch and watching the flames flicker. 

“I think I have a crazy foolish plan,” I mutter after a long while, realizing that Susan isn’t returning to join us. 

“Does it involve me leaving the Glen? Because if so I don’t want to hear it,” Anne replies quietly, looking at me with an even stare. 

“No. But you might hate me for the suggestion…” 

“I’m sure I won’t. I could never hate you, Gil,” she sighs and I gather my courage. 

“Elope with me. Your name will officially go down in the books as Cordelia Wright and he’ll have no claim to you. You can stay here for as long as you need without worrying about your reputation and propriety and when this all blows over, well, you can leave and be free to do what you wish. I won’t lay claim to you but I will marry you to protect you, if you agree.” It tumbles out of me so quickly that I almost don’t believe she understands it, her mouth hanging open as she looks at me. 

One second, then two, pass before she closes her mouth and sits up straight. “Yes,” is all she says and I feel my heart both soar and break in the same moment. “Tomorrow?” 

“Okay,” I agree carefully, watching as a wave of emotions pass over her face. 

“I’m going to go to bed. Thank you for… Everything, Gil.” Our closeness over the past few months disappears in an instant as she bids me goodnight and then scurries down the hallway to leave me frozen in the parlour. 

We marry with Susan and the minister’s wife as witnesses, signing our paperwork in the dim morning light of Glen St Mary. When we kiss it’s nothing like the kisses we’ve shared since the New Year began and I try to overcome the disappointment I feel in losing this memory to something tarnished and broken. 

Announcing our marriage to the Turner family comes next as we invite them over for dinner the next day. They’re surprised, but take it well enough I suppose. I pray they don’t see through our reserved behaviour. That they don’t call our bluff. Michael is the first to propose that we open a joint account at the bank and I say a silent prayer at the suggestion, the formality of the action exactly what we need to protect Anne from her old identity. 

“Can we do it first thing?” I ask afterwards, as they’re preparing to head back home. Michael turns to me with a raised brow, his hand settling on my elbow. 

“What’s the rush? Don’t you have better things to be doing on your honeymoon?” He winks and withdraws, looking towards his wife affectionately. I reach for him abruptly and he turns back, eyes wide. 

Leaving Anne with his wife he nods towards the parlour and steers us towards it silently. Once inside I turn to him with confusion that he easily shakes off. “I’m getting the sense there’s more going on here than just a wedding,” he starts, pausing to watch as my mouth opens and closes without words. “Tell me this isn’t because you’ve gotten her pregnant. You of all people should know better.” 

I nearly choke on my tongue, sputtering as I look down at his angry expression. “It’s not - “ 

“Don’t lie to me, Gilbert. We aren’t blind to the way you two are together. If she really is with child you need to take this more seriously and stop being such a cad about it,” he huffs and crosses his arms, waiting for me to answer him. 

My words freeze in my throat, my mouth dry. “Anne isn’t - she’s not - “ I realize my mistake as soon as my shocked mind catches up, Michael’s eyes widening as he looks at me. 

“Anne? Who in the devil is  _ Anne _ ?” He hisses, confusion filling his features. I rub frustratedly at my brow, trying to think of a way out of this mess but coming up with nothing that will save me and still protect her. 

“I am, Mr Turner,” Anne says from the doorway, a stunned Susan and Sarah standing behind her. My eyes rise to meet hers and she smiles sadly, shrugging as she steps into the room. “My real name isn’t Cordelia Wright. I borrowed that name from a good friend of mine. I’m actually Anne Shirley Cuthbert of Avonlea and I’ve been trying to pretend I’m someone else for a long time now.” 

“Anne? Marilla Cuthbert’s orphan?” Sarah whispers, looking up at Anne with wide eyes. Both Anne and I look at her with surprise, shocked that she knows who she is. 

“Yes - did you - did you know Marilla?” Anne asks calmly, though her voice shakes with the woman’s name on her lips. 

“Why, I met her a few times in Carmody. She mentioned you quite often but I starkly remember her telling me about your red - oh, you dye it!” Sarah gasps and holds her hand to her mouth, looking between the two of us. “My dear girl, what in good heavens is going on? Marilla would have raised you better than this surely.” 

I watch as Anne falters, the insinuation that Marilla would disapprove of her choices causing her anguish that clearly plays across her features and turns her inward with shame. In two steps I cross the room and pull her into my embrace, my hands soothing down her back as she shudders against me. 

“It’s a long story. Why don’t I make us some tea?” Susan breaks in, guiding the Turners to the couch and pressing a hand to my shoulder softly. I steer Anne towards the chair nearest the fire and settle her into it, pulling up a stool to perch on beside her and keeping her hand in my lap. 

The Turners sit uncomfortably on the edge of the cushion, confusion and a mix of distrust evident as they watch us. “Anne,” I whisper, my fingers curling around her ear and lifting her chin from her chest. She stares at me with bloodshot eyes, unblinking for a moment as she resolves herself. “Do you want me to - “ 

“I do dye my hair, Mrs Turner, and I am Marilla’s orphan. As you probably remember I used to manage to get myself into worlds of trouble and it’s no different now. I married a man while in college. Someone I thought was good and kind but I was wrong. He was unkind to me - “ I grip her hand tightly and look to where Mrs Turner pales, her eyes wide. “He was not a good man and so I left without telling him and I came here to try to start over. I decided to go by a different name because I didn’t want to be found. But,” she pauses and closes her eyes, exhaling shakily and digging her nails into my palm. “But I believe he’s found me here, in the Glen. And I think he’s coming to collect what’s his.” 

The room is dead silent as Anne finishes, neither Michael nor Sarah moving from their places. I myself barely breathe, certain that if I did anything to change the composition of the room that it would ruin everything. And so I remain staunchly still, watching our guests as they process the information as quickly as they can. 

“Why the marriage? Why continue the charade instead of telling him you won’t go back if he does indeed show up here?” Michael asks carefully, leaning forward. I recognize the curiosity in his gaze, his desire for understanding rather than judgement. 

“He would not accept any answer I provided him. He hasn’t in the past,” Anne replies and looks towards me, shifting in her seat. 

“So you’ve done this in the past then? How many husbands do you have, Miss Wright?” 

“Only the one,” she snaps in return, insult playing into her response as Michael implies a pattern. He holds up his hands before him, surrendering. 

“I only mean to understand why you’ve married the young doctor,” he corrects and looks towards me pleadingly. 

“The marriage was actually my idea - “ 

“Because I’ve loved him since I was a girl, Mr Turner,” Anne says over me, squeezing my hand tightly in hers and trying to convey with a look all of the love she hadn’t ever been able to admit before. “Gilbert has been by my side since I first moved to Avonlea… Even when I pushed him away. I had a very difficult childhood, you see, and I’ve always been prone to fighting off things I don’t think I deserve. I actually - I married my husband after Gilbert proposed the first time and I turned him down out of fear. I didn’t think then that I deserved someone like him because he was always too good for me.” 

“And you do now? Think that you are good enough for him?” Sarah’s question comes out harsher than she intends, her face flushing with it. 

“N - “ 

“I don’t deserve her, Sarah,” I reply for both of us, looking towards Anne with all of the love that I can gather. 

“But why marry now at all? Isn’t the law quite clear that you cannot have two marriages? This one is a sham,” Michael insists, pressing the issue to understand why his friend is willingly getting involved in this uncertain state of affairs. 

“Anne needs legal recognition of her new name. If we can show on paper that she’s Cordelia Wright, now Blythe, we can argue that Gardner has a case of mistaken identity. That’s what we hope for, at least,” I try to explain, urging them to side with us. It was a risk to do this but the benefit would far outweigh the negative if we didn’t try. 

“Gilbert, this is quite a risk you’re taking. With your reputation, your practice… If the truth comes out and this man makes your complicity in this affair well known you’ll lose everything!” 

“I have nothing if Anne goes back to him, Michael. Don’t you understand that? Surely you must understand that if Sarah was in this same position - if someone was hurting her the way Anne was hurt - you would risk everything to keep her safe?” The man looks taken aback at my words, his arm coming to wrap around his wife’s shoulders protectively. 

We watch as the couple on the couch turns to one another, their hands clasped tightly together and their exchange unspoken. I hold my breath as Michael turns back to me, an unreadable look on his face. 

“Please don’t expose her,” I plead as he looks up at me. “Please help me keep her safe.” 

The man shakes his head and rubs his chin, leaning back against the couch for a moment of tense silence. When he looks up at Anne once more it’s with a measured gaze, searching for something that I can’t comprehend. 

“Tell me about this man you’re running from,” he requests softly, conceding the fight and coming over to our side. 

We spend the next hour with Susan next to us, recounting what we can from the last few months and sharing what Anne feels comfortable explaining of her past. When eventually the Turners stand up to leave it’s with strong hugs and squeezes of the shoulders that they depart, promising to help in whatever way they can. 

I try to see it as a victory but the way Anne disappears to her room afterwards, distancing herself from us, marks it as an evening that she would sooner rather forget. Letting her have her space, I help Susan tidy up the kitchen and then turn in myself, crawling into my bed and thinking over the afternoon. 

There’d been no plan to involve others, not in any of our discussions since the curious arrival of Thomas Hughes at the New Year’s party. I wasn’t sure if this was the right step but knew that we didn’t have much of a choice, not after everything that had happened. We needed people on our side who would protect Anne, that much was certain, but the relationships that we almost lost in the revealing of her identity were a risk that we had to begin to gauge. 

With a heavy sigh I turn over in my bed and face the window, watching as the moon lights the sloping crest of the land outside. I hadn’t expected my year to go this way. Hell, I hadn’t expected to be married to Anne, least of all in this manner where our wedding night didn’t involve us sharing even the same room. It felt uncomfortable, like a film covered us now that we couldn’t shake off. 

_ Had this been the right thing to do? _ I questioned myself, shifting to try to get comfortable but realizing the thoughts were what kept me awake and not the bed. 

The only answer to the question that I could give was that the alternative was worse - Anne being taken back to her old life, disappearing into that marriage and not surviving it - that was unbearable. This discomfort, this uncertainty, was temporary. We would overcome it, just like every other roadblock we’d come up against. 

“Gil?” Anne’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I sit up to face her, my eyes wide as she pokes her head through my bedroom door. Her hair is down around her face, the dark shade emphasizing the shadows under her eyes and making her look ethereal, like a being not meant for this world. “Can I come in for a minute?” 

Swallowing thickly, I nod and watch numbly as she tip toes across the space towards my bed. Without hesitation she crawls up beside me, her eyes trailing from my hands to my ears, a blush rising in her cheeks. I remember then that I’m still shirtless, my preferred attire for sleeping making me seem more forward than I was trying to be. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits quietly, leaning back against my headboard and watching me with those grey eyes. Her nightgown peeks out from under her sweater, a bright cream colour in the evening light. 

“Neither could I,” I reply lamely, glancing at her sideways and debating whether to get up and find a shirt or not. She seems unaffected by my state of undress and it’s then I recall that this isn’t new to her - she’s spent years in bed with another man. The realization sours me for a moment and I push it from my mind, remembering that I had no right to judge her for any of it. 

“What were you thinking of? Just now. Your smile went away.” Anne reaches for my hand, linking her fingers with mine as she watches me with hooded eyes. 

“I’d rather not say.” It cuts out of me and she pauses, tightening her grip. 

“Gil, please. We’re married now,” she presses, lifting her free hand to my cheek. I close my eyes at her touch, releasing a shaky breath. 

“I remembered that this isn’t as new to you as it is to me. That… That you’ve done this all before.” She looks at me steadily as I say it, her fingers continuing their path through my curls until they slip down to my chest. There she pauses, her hand splaying over my heart. 

“I’ve never done this with  _ you _ before, so isn’t it possible that it’s just as new to me as it is to you?” Anne counters softly, waiting for me to exhale. She’s got me there. I’d only ever imagined this scenario, my thoughts improper as they remember all the sleepless nights, and even then that was surely not enough. “Do you hold it against me Gil? That I’m ruined?” 

“You’re not ruined,” I snap back, my brows shooting up in surprise that she would even suggest it. She smiles and leans towards me, her breath tickling my throat. It causes my skin to alight and my stomach to tighten with want.

“I should have said - “ 

“Don’t say it,” I interrupt, begging her not to say what I think she’s about to say. I couldn’t bear to hear it. We needed to move forward and past our ‘should of’s’ or we’d never grow together in the present. We had to live in the now or we wouldn’t survive. “You’re here now. We found our way back,” I state carefully and watch her skin flush, her eyes closing gently. 

“I’ve missed you for so long,” she whispers against my skin, her chest pressing against my arm as her head rests on my shoulder. I lift her chin so that I’m able to catch her eyes, to see the truth in them that she’s always shown. 

“Anne,” I breathe, the sight of her stunning me for a moment. She licks her lips and my gaze dips down before locking back on hers, waiting, wishing. In another second she’s capturing my mouth with hers, her arms snaking up around my neck and drawing me towards her. 

I go willingly, my frame covering hers as she pulls me closer with every breath. We dissolve into each other, seeking and pressing for more, small gasps escaping our throats as our hands explore. She doesn’t hesitate to draw my hand to her breast, urging me to feel her chest rise and fall and her nipple to pucker under her nightgown. It catches and stuns me, my body jolting as she drags her hands down my exposed skin to my hips and then lower still, her fingers slipping under the band of my sleep pants. 

“Gil,” she whispers, raw and heady as her nails scrape against my skin. My hips jerk at her touch, my hands squeezing as she nips at my ear. With a moan and a skipped sigh she rolls us over onto my back, her tiny frame crawling atop me and splaying my hands overhead. The movement isn’t like anything I’d imagined before and yet still it drives me onward, gasping for breath as she suckles at a place below my jaw. 

The scent and feel of her overwhelms me and I grip at her thighs, careful to keep my hands from taking too much all at once. With her hair tickling my face and her legs straddling my hips I fight to keep control, certain that if I let go it would all end too soon.  _ God, was this too soon? _ I couldn’t help but think reactively, the thought intruding with the fear of causing a distance between us erupting in my chest and causing me to still. She notices it instantly, her hand rising from where it had settled below my waist and coming to rest on my chest as she gasps for breath. 

“What is it?” She asks lowly, her voice thick. I can feel the staccato beat of her heart rippling into my skin at every point of where we touch and it drives my body to flush. 

“Is this - Anne, I don’t want to make this - “ 

“Are you forcing me, Gil?” I shake my head and she sighs, her fingers drifting along my jaw. “Did you have to talk me into it? Did I ask you to stop?”

“No,” I reply. She leans towards me and places her lips against mine, a soft kiss and a promise placed on my skin. 

“I’ve wanted you for longer than I can remember. I wanted this. I want this. And we’re married so what’s stopping us?” 

“Anne,” I say on a sigh, cupping her face in my palm.  _ How do I say what I need without pushing her away? _ “I want this too. You don’t understand how much I want this. But I feel like maybe I’m not ready just yet. I don’t want it to push us apart.” 

With a quiet laugh she slips down to lay across my chest, her breaths coming fast as her hair splays across my chest. “After all these years… We still can’t figure out the timing,” she adds softly before looking up at me once more. 

“We’re getting closer, if that helps,” I reply pathetically, my arms coming up to drag the blanket over us as the tension starts to leave my body. 

“It does. At least now we’re both in the same chapter.” Her statement brings a grin to my lips and I shift to brush my hand along her brow, searching her out. When her grey eyes find mine I lift my lips to hers and hold her to me for as long as I can. 

“I love you,“ I murmur as she looks down at me with an easy smile. She curls into me then, her cheek pressing into my collar as her arm wraps around me. I could spend a lifetime here, just like this. 

With a yawn Anne sighs and squeezes me to her, her voice soft as she whispers in reply, “I love you too.” 


	14. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... Ugh, you're killing me with kindness. Thank you for sticking with me on this adventure!

I wake in the middle of the night to a ringing phone, my mind hazy as I stir and open my eyes. Wrapped around me is a thin frame, long arms and legs twisted around my torso and a nose tucked up against my chin. A silky desire curls around me as my fingers run along the soft skin pressed to my chest, Anne’s scent encouraging an inward battle. The phone rings again and I curse whoever is calling me, reluctantly disentangling myself and hushing the gravelly voice that moans at my loss of contact. 

I pad through the room to the kitchen as lightly as I can, picking up the receiver and listening as Marcus Murphy yells panicked words into the line. I try to calm him, asking him to explain what’s happening with as much detail as he can as I scribble into the notebook I keep on the side table. Beth is outside the house, screaming into the night. I can feel the blood curdling screams through the line and it makes my stomach swoop anxiously. 

“I’m on my way Marcus, just keep calm,” I instruct and hang up. I don’t manage to be quiet as I burst back into my room, a bedraggled Anne sitting up abruptly as I rummage through my closet. 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” She asks innocently, the prickle of fear evident as she watches me disrobe and pull on my clothes as quickly as I can. I can’t find the brain space to answer her as I look around for my bag, desperate and with a one track mind. “Gilbert! Tell me what’s happening!” She shouts, breaking me from my search and causing me to look at her with wide eyes. Her face is pale, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as she watches me. 

I remember then that this is her first time being woken by an emergency, her first time being dragged back to the world of the living with possibly someone’s life on the line. My first time had been wholly disorienting and I wouldn’t redo it for all the money in the world. 

“It’s alright - just a situation at the Murphy’s. I’ll be back as soon as I can, try to go back to sleep,” I ramble as she watches me return to my search. I see the clasp of the bag under the bed and fall to my knees to retrieve it, pausing only to look up at her when she grabs my face in her hands. 

“What do you need?” She asks after a moment, her touch calming me in ways I can’t understand. 

“I’ve got it under control, love. I promise,” I reply hastily and drag her towards me for a brief kiss. I don’t have time for it but I can’t help it, my soul flying at the thought that she was ready to run with me and face whatever was happening head on. She watches me go with a stunned look on her face, her hair flying around her in a picture worth a thousand words. 

I ride towards the Murphy’s as quickly as I can, pushing my horse to its limits as we barrel across the properties that run between us. I hear Beth before I see her, her voice wearing thin as she cries out in the low morning light. 

The sight I come upon strikes me down and I rear the horse back as I approach, dismounting and tying him off to the fence post. Dropping my bag on the ground I move towards her with open hands, repeating her name as calmly as I can. She wields a knife and lurches at me, her face darkened with a madness I can’t explain. 

“Beth - I need you to drop the knife,” I soothe, stepping closer and watching her every flinch. She shakes her head and spins towards the house, shouting at her husband hoarsely. 

“He’s trying to kill me! He won’t let me near him!” She screams and stumbles, her nightgown fluttering in the wind. Marcus watches us from the door to the house, the light behind him casting a shadow over his face as he holds a crying infant in his arms. 

“I need you to put the knife down or I can’t help you,” I repeat lowly, stepping forward and then leaning back as she thrashes out at me. It’s a near miss but it gives me the opportunity to knock her wrist and cause her hand to release the blade. All my medical training is for naught as I rely on my football days to tackle her to the ground. 

She screams so loudly, so forcefully, that it’s nearly deafening as she struggles against my hold. 

“Beth - hey, it’s okay,” I mumble as I push her hands into the grass, trying to force her into submission. Marcus comes out of the house and stands on the edge of my vision, watching me struggle against his wife’s chaotic movements. “In my bag - there’s a bottle that has a large ‘C’ on it. Hold the cloth - are you listening to me?” I grunt and look angrily at the man, watching as he stands frozen. “Marcus! Follow my instructions!” 

I explain in the easiest terms I can how to prepare a rag with chloroform, struggling all the while to keep Beth from breaking free as the man slowly kneels before us with the cloth. It only takes a second of the sweet smelling liquid held to her nose for her to stop fighting me, her body going limp as I pull the cloth away.

Marcus swears, picking up Harris and watching as I do an initial exam on his wife in the little light that early dawn provides me. There are no open wounds, no blood or signs of trauma at first. But then I see it, the bruises on her collar, the dark streaks along her arms that come from combat. 

I hold my tongue as I carry Beth inside the house and set her safely on the bed, my care for her keeping my blood pumping calmly when all I really want to do is drag Marcus Murphy six feet under. 

“What happened to her?” I ask after I’ve loosely bound her wrists to the bedposts. I know it’s a horrible thing to do but I’ve no choice - not when she could wake and hurt someone or herself in her state of psychosis.

“What do you mean? She just went crazy! Grabbed the knife from the kitchen and started losing it!” Marcus replies angrily, ignoring the sound of his son who starts to cry behind him. I watch as the man paces across the room and back, stalking and grumbling about his wife and her unwillingness to be a normal human again. 

“Could you go into town for me Marcus? I’ll need tobacco from the shop to treat her,” I lie, desperate to come up with any reason to get him out of the house. He looks at me oddly, as though he doesn’t believe what I’m requesting, but then relents and begins packing his saddlebag for the trip. The stores aren’t open yet so I know he’ll be gone long enough, if I’m lucky. 

When he’s disappeared over the hill I take up the phone and call immediately into the town officer, requesting his emergency assistance. He promises to come by as soon as he’s dressed and I return to the bedroom to find Beth stirring, her eyes fluttering as she begins to come out of her sedation. 

“Beth - it’s Doctor Blythe,” I say steadily, brushing her hair back from her brow and helping ease her back into consciousness. She groans and I release her left hand so that she can vomit into the bucket I’ve brought, my hand circling on her back as she begins to cry. 

“Where’s he gone?” She sobs as she lays back on the bed, the light from the oil lamp highlighting the bruising under her eye. 

“I’ve asked Office Barton to come over. I’m worried about you, Beth.” My voice catches as she looks up at me with destruction in her gaze, her world crashing down around her as she cries through the realization. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s just angry that I’m not the same. Marcus doesn’t mean to hurt me - you can’t - you can’t take him from me!” She groans and turns her head into her arm. I shift on the bed uneasily as she looks back up at me. “I won’t survive without him, I won’t…” 

My heart breaks as this woman pleads with me to not report this, to pretend this never happened. I refuse to give in and when Officer Barton arrives on the doorstep I explain everything I’ve seen, everything I fear, and wait in the kitchen as he interviews Beth alone in the room. 

“She won’t file a report,” Barton sighs as he returns a while later, looking at me with a steady gaze. I can tell he’s seen this before, has been told the same story and been brushed off when he tried to help. “There’s nothing I can do if she won’t file.” 

I grip my hand tighter around my bag, looking between the door to the bedroom and the small crib beside me. Beth was choosing not to charge Marcus for the abuse he clearly laid upon her. The same abuse that drove her to scream in the yard with a knife. I close my eyes and breathe through the anger and frustration I feel as the other man heads towards the door. 

“We don’t live in a world where we can stop this, Doc,” Barton says before stepping out into the cool morning air. I watch him go, waiting for Marcus to return from his fool’s errand so that I can leave. 

I’ve never felt more useless then when I close the door on the Murphy household, an angry man and a broken woman inside who is too afraid to leave. I return home dejected, at a loss and worried that the next call I receive will be the last from them. It haunts me along the way and when I stumble through the door to my home I’m exhausted, drained, and all I want is to be left alone. 

But my bed is occupied when I arrive there and Anne has filled my empty space, her sleeping form coiled so tightly into herself that my chest aches with the sight of it. I remove my socks and shoes, stripping down to my trousers before crawling in behind her and staring up at the ceiling. With almost a sixth sense she turns in her sleep towards me, her soft touch sliding over my skin as she wraps an arm around my chest and drags me into her embrace. I go willingly, clutching her to me and finding solace in the beat of her heart against mine as defeated tears slip into my pillow. 


	15. Fourteen

I wake up alone, my pillows tucked up around me in a way that makes me think I fully imagined Anne in my bed last night. But when I open my eyes and see the light streaming through the windows, catching on something silver next to me, I know I imagined nothing. 

A small silver band sits on the white linen, unassuming as it waits for me to wake. I take it carefully in my palm and turn it over, recognizing it somehow but unable to place it. With effort I force myself to my feet and drag on clothes for the day, glancing outside to see the sun halfway over the horizon. I’d slept in, late. 

The sounds of the kitchen in use draws me out of my room in my bare feet, the sweet smell of baking bread pulling me down the hall. Like a sight from a dream, Anne is standing over the stove and stirring something in a large pot, her hair pulled back in a raven braid that snakes down her back. 

“Look who finally lives,” Susan says as she comes clamouring through the kitchen door, a chicken in one hand and a basket of apples in the other. She shoots me a sly smile before climbing down the stairs into the empty cellar. I don’t think in all my time here in the Glen that I’d ever been down there and so when she disappears, I’m confused for a moment and caught staring. 

“You’re awake,” Anne says gently, looking up from the stove with a smile. I hold up the ring and watch as the colour moves up her chest and into her cheeks. “You found it…” 

“I did. Where did it come from?” I join her at the stove and watch as she methodically continues stirring. 

“They were - Marilla gave them to me. They belonged to her parents and she put them in my trousseau because she figured if I was ever going to be married it would likely be because I proposed instead of the man,” she replies with a hesitant laugh, her gaze jumping up to mine shyly. 

“And you still have them?” I ask carefully, watching as the unasked question hovers between us. 

“Yes - Roy didn’t find them suitable enough for us so he refused and bought us new ones. I kept them anyways because Marilla wanted me to have them.” She shrugs and removes the pot from the burner, setting it on the counter and wiping her hands on her apron. “You don’t have to wear it. I know it’s not really real but I figured - “ 

“Anne, that’s not - “ 

“You don’t have to pretend Gil, I understand!” She moves towards the table and occupies her hands with wiping up the remnants of flour. Abruptly she turns to me and holds out her hand expectantly, her face forcefully neutral. “I’ll just put them back into safe keeping.” 

Grabbing her outstretched hand tightly in mine I pull her ring off and stalk down the hall, hurrying to my dresser and yanking the top drawer open. She follows me cautiously, pausing in the doorway and looking at me with guarded eyes. 

“Come here,” I urge, digging through the socks until I find what I’m looking for. Standing beside me she watches as though I’m a madman, my heart in my throat as I turn to look at her. Without hesitating I sink to my knee and open my hand to reveal a small handkerchief with a ring stitched into its center before looking up at her with as much steadiness as I can muster. “Anne, will you wear these rings in recognition of our love bond? Will you take me in times of trials, in times of great happiness, to travel alongside you for the rest of our lives?” 

She steps back hastily and bumps into the bedpost, clasping it in her palm and trying to hide the shock in her expression. I take a breath, stuffing down the initial panic at her reaction and forcing myself to wait for her to come back to herself. I don’t move, holding my position as I watch her settle more with each breath. 

“Where did you get that ring?  _ When _ did you get that ring?” She hisses, her hands coming to rest dominantly on her hips. 

“It was always intended for you. Always.” Her hand rises to cover her lips, her eyes closing as she exhales shakily. 

“But we’re already married,” she whispers eventually, stepping back towards me. I grin back at her, shrugging. 

“We’ve never been big on doing things properly, why start now?” 

Taking her offered hand I slip the rings on her finger, one for her family, one for us, and then press my lips over both to seal them to her skin. She draws me up to her with grasping fingers and presses her mouth to mine, holding me to her as though she’s afraid I’ll float away. My hands hover at her sides, hesitant about scaring her off inadvertently. Sensing my reluctance she smiles into our kiss, sliding her hands down my arms and to my wrists before moving them to her hips. 

“It’s alright,” she whispers, barely a centimetre between us as she crowds in. I exhale and let myself go, clinging to her like a man lost at sea. 

When eventually we part, our lips swollen and our chests heaving, I take the time to smooth down her hair from where I’ve mussed up her braid. She returns the gesture, her thumbs grazing over the stubble on my chin as she slowly pulls away. 

“I made a plate for you for breakfast but you didn’t wake up in time. I figured you needed the rest. Did you want it now?” Nodding, I follow her back to the kitchen and avoid eye contact with a smiling Susan, her cheeks flushed as she looks us over. The ring on my finger is barely noticable, almost as if it’s been there forever, and she remarks on them lightly before informing us that she plans to head into town. 

Left on our own I seize on the moment and sit as close to Anne as I can manage, picking at my food and spending more time tasting her than anything on the table before us. 

The afternoon slips away as we forget the world around us and get lost in the dreams of our youth. It’s only later under the lone apple tree in my yard that she brings us back to the worries that we should be focusing on, the things that drew us together in the first place. 

“What happens when he gets here, Gil?” Anne wonders aloud, shifting to sit up so that she can look at me head on. I turn my head towards her and grab her hands in mine, squeezing them tightly. 

“I think our best plan is to deny all of it when we’re in public. You’re Cordelia Blythe now, on paper officially. Michael is adding you to my accounts, the community knows you as Miss Wright… This place wouldn’t believe any stranger coming in and trying to argue otherwise.” 

She shifts uneasily and looks away, her eyes searching the horizon. “And in private?” 

“You’ll never be alone with him. I’ll be with you through all of it,” I reply adamantly, sitting up and scooting closer. Lifting my hand to her cheek I turn her back towards me, my gaze catching hers. “He won’t be able to hurt you. Not ever again.” 

“You don’t know him like I do,” she replies with a shake of her head, rushing to her feet and leaving me to scramble after her. She beelines towards the house, my long strides easily catching up and surpassing her to block her escape. 

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not. If he raises a finger towards you Anne, I’ll end him.” The threat slips out of me more forcefully than I’d like, it’s rasp bringing her eyes up to mine with a shadow crossing her expression. 

I realize in that moment that the memory from last night, the helplessness I’d felt leaving the Murphy house, has seized me completely and caused my fists to clench and my chest to tighten. Forcing the breath from my lungs I look to the sky, counting and bringing myself back down to earth. 

“I’m sorry - I don’t mean to be like that. I’ve just seen too much lately to stand by and let anything happen - “ 

“Is this because of last night? That call you went out on?” She asks with a steeled voice that belies the turmoil happening inside of her. 

“It’s because I’m tired of watching people get hurt because they had no way to get out. I can’t continue to stand by and try to pick up the pieces and paste them back together!” 

The admission rings in the air around us, the peaceful afternoon dissipating in a fiery heap as I growl out my words. Anne looks at me with stunned silence, her hands across her chest and her shoulders rolled back. She looks ready for battle, like a woman prepared to scorch the earth with just a look. I’m ready to take it, ready to meet fire with fire. 

But she doesn’t fight back. With a noticeable change she shifts and releases her elbows, closing her eyes and breathing deeply before lifting her hands to my cheeks. “It is not up to you, Gilbert Blythe, to solve the world’s problems,” she says lowly, calmly. I feel her thumbs on my cheekbones and close my eyes, breathing in the scent of her as she gathers me close to her chest. 

With my arms wrapping tightly around her waist I exhale the breath I’d been holding, shakily pressing a kiss to her temple and resting my forehead to hers. “What did I do to deserve you, Anne-girl?” 

Her resulting chuckle has me drawing back and meeting her gaze, patiently waiting as she shakes her head. “I could ask the same to you.” 

As evening falls in the Glen we find ourselves tucking into bed together once more, books in hand as we read into the evening with the low lamp light. Anne is the first to drift off, curled up on the edge of the mattress with her copy of  _ Frankenstein _ held tightly to her chest. I try to focus on my medical text but the heavy content lulls me and eventually I close my eyes, leaning against the headboard and listening to the gentle sounds of her breaths in the small room. 

The sound that wakes me isn’t particularly loud or jarring like my ringing phone would be. It’s something so unobtrusive that for a moment I sit there confused, my eyes fluttering open as I try to orient myself in the dark room. 

“Get  _ off _ ,” Anne’s voice whispers beside me, her small frame clutching her pillow. “ _ Don’t _ ,” she pleads softly, the pain evident and urging me back to the present. I remember then where we are, my mind slow to catch up but eventually bringing me back to the present. She’s silent for a moment and I think perhaps her dream has passed until a sob slips from her lips. 

“Anne,” I urge, reaching for her shoulder. She twists away from my touch and the cry that sounds echoes off of the walls and slams back into me. “It’s just a dream,” I attempt once more, leaning over her and brushing her hair back away from her face. Her expression is tortured, her brow furrowed as tears fall from her eyes. 

“Please,  _ stop _ . It  _ hurts _ ,” she groans and slaps out a hand, her book falling to the floor with a thump. The sound is enough to make her lash out, her arms connecting with mine and knocking me forward until my chin hits her collar. With a gasp and a forced inhale she stills beneath me, her chest heaving.

“Anne!” I rumble as her eyes snap open, terror lacing through her features. Her hands still from where they’re pushing at my shoulders and I pull myself back, staring down at her as she fights to regain control of her breathing. “You’re okay, Anne. It’s just me - it’s just Gil,” I remind her, waiting, watching, for the fear to subside. 

Time freezes as she covers her face with her hands, her body shaking with the silent sobs that start to rack her tiny frame. I debate whether to touch her, to potentially compound her confusion, but my instinct wins out and my hands slide over the back of hers and ease them away so that she can look at my face and know it’s truly me. The movement seems to work and she jolts up against me, her arms wrapping around my neck and pulling me to her with a vibrant urgency. 

I hold her until her tears dry and her mind settles, the dream’s hold loosening and slowly allowing her to return to the world of the living. When eventually she attempts to pull back I let her go, but only far enough that I can see her face. I brush my thumb over her cheek and press my lips to hers, pleading with her to come back to me. I wasn’t ready to part from her, not just yet. Not after what I’m sure she’d been dreaming of. 

“I’m alright, Gil,” she rasps finally, glancing up at me with a shuttered look. The ghosts of her past still hover over us and it takes a moment for her words to sink in, my own body still taunt with the tension of the dream. “It was just a nightmare. It happens sometimes.” 

Closing my eyes I breathe through the anger, the sadness, that runs in my veins with the understanding. If I could turn back the clock, if I could trade my life for hers, I would do it in an instant if only so that she would never have to fight her way out of something like that again. 

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against hers. She sighs and rolls onto her side, drawing me down to lay before her. Her fingers scrape along my scalp and slide behind my ear, gentle, soothing, and the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding rattles out of me. 

“Don’t apologize for it,” she replies lowly, our gazes meeting across the pillows. “It isn’t your job to apologize.” 

“I know. I just wish - I wish I could carry it for you.” My hand tightens on her hip for a moment and she exhales, lifting to brush her lips against mine so softly that I almost miss it. 

“I love you,” she murmurs as she draws back. We lay together without words for a long while after that, neither of us daring to say more or willing to slip back to sleep just yet. When finally the exhaustion catches up to us I ensure she’s pulled tight against me, her hips pressed to mine and our legs tangled so that if she were to wake there was no confusion who was holding her close. There would be no more dreams tonight, not if I could help it. 


	16. Fifteen

“Must we go?” Anne asks from under the covers, peeking out at me as I straighten my tie for church. She’s still in my bed, tousled from sleep and too appealing for her own good. That’s half the reason why I’m up and milling around my room far too early for any logical reason. If I’d stayed in bed… God, I couldn’t think about it or I’d crawl right back in that bed and damn us both. Each hour we spent under the covers together it became harder to resist her touch, to keep my hands from taking liberties that I wasn’t ready for. 

“Yes - we must. We need to announce it and - “ 

“Gil,” she interrupts, sitting up and letting the blankets drop to her lap. I glance towards her and smile at the sight of her. Sometime in the night she’d shed her sweater, the milky skin of her arms teasing me as I remembered the way they’d felt across my body not an hour ago. “Come back to bed.” 

Her cheeks flush with the boldness of her request, the colour sinking down her chest and into her lacy collar. “Don’t tempt me, Miss Shirley,” I reply weakly. 

“Fine. But I don’t plan on crawling back into this bed for at  _ least _ the foreseeable future,” she sighs and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. I groan and swoop towards her, seizing the opportunity and capturing her face in my palms. My lips press to hers and she gasps, her hands grasping at tufts of my hair as she follows me upward. Dragging her against me I withdraw, smiling as she stumbles on her feet like a baby fawn. 

“Careful now love,” I say with a steadying hand. She looks up at me with a wave of surprise that evolves into scorn. 

“You tricked me,” she counters, reaching down to grab her sweater from the floor and pulling it haughtily up her arms. 

“That’s because we have to go.” 

With a heavy sigh she lifts her chin and steps around me, stalking from the room and down the hallway without so much as a peck on the cheek. 

Our arrival in the churchyard doesn’t go unnoticed like I’d hoped. The Turners are the first to see us coming, joining us as we disembark our buggy as Michael reaches to help Susan and Anne down easily. 

“How has the rest of your weekend been?” Michael greets, a knowing wink and a chuckle between us. Susan smirks and heads towards the church without us, mumbling about needing to find some time with God. 

“It’s been interesting,” I answer as I take Anne’s hand tightly in mine. 

“I hope you don’t mind - we shared your news with some of the folks ahead of your arrival. We thought you’d appreciate they had a bit of a primer to the surprise,” Sarah adds while we walk slowly towards the crowd. The people in the yard watch us aptly, their eyes following our arrival with guarded expressions. “They’ve been taking it well enough, I suppose.”

I look to the families closest to us, the Gilmore’s with their plentiful daughters now struggling to hide their disappointment that I hadn’t proposed to one of them and the Wilson’s, a couple old enough to having likely been alive to judge Jesus himself. They were not the measures of this community, not in the least, and I urged Anne forward with my palm to those who I knew would accept us with open arms. 

“Can we go inside?” Anne asks as we step between clusters of people. I catch sight of her tight expression, the way her smile falters just enough to make me hesitate. 

“Of course. You don’t mind that we head in, right?” I ask Michael who shakes his head quickly. 

“Not at all. We’ll run as much interference that we can and join you soon,” Michael replies and gives my shoulder a squeeze. 

We head inside the church and tuck ourselves in the middle, my hands holding Anne’s tightly in my lap as the people start to stream inside. She says little as we wait for the service to start, her shoulders tense as she looks around us. 

“Once it gets going it’ll be easier,” I whisper into her ear, desperate to help her relax. 

“It’s not that,” she counters, looking over her shoulder quickly. I follow her gaze to where Thomas Hughes sits in the corner, his hat low over his brow and hiding most of his face. My fingers tighten around hers, my body twisting to look at him more fully. 

“It’s just him.” I explain softly. She nods, her gaze focused on the pulpit. “Nothing’s going to happen here. He wouldn’t dare.” 

“You don’t know Roy like I do,” she replies carefully before trying to pull her hands back. I grip them tighter and lift a hand to her cheek. 

“Love - “ 

“Well aren’t you two just the cutest pair!” Mrs Stewart coos, settling behind us with her newborn and looking between us and her husband with glee. “I told you he would find his match here, didn’t I Charles?” 

“That you did,” Mr Stewart responds with a friendly grin, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. 

“I’m just so tickled pink. And such a beauty too - you wouldn’t think she was as whip smart as the boys say she is looking as lovely as she does!” Mrs Stewart continues and Anne chuckles, finally distracted enough from her worries to relax into the company that joins us. 

The service goes quickly, multiple prayers being issued in our name and some causing us to blush furiously as the small community comes to congratulate us afterwards. With as little fanfare as we can manage we head for home, somehow lighter but still with images of Thomas Hughes haunting the back of our minds. 

“I wonder why he’s still here,” Anne asks as we round the bend towards my house. 

“Because he’s a right stupid fool,” Susan perks up from beside Anne, huffing in her seat. “If they knew what was good for them they’d get the hell out of town and stay gone. But alas, men…” She trails off with a shrug and leans into Anne’s shoulder affectionately. “Don’t let him get to you dear, you’ve got me on your side and I’m quite certain the young Doctor here would sooner bury a body than let you get away from him again.” 

“Susan!” Anne gasps, laughing heartily at the woman and slapping her knee playfully. “I don’t know if - “ 

“I would too. How did you know?” I chide, leaning around Anne to see where Susan’s shaking with laughter. “Where did you find this woman who knows so much about me?” 

“Stop! Both of you!” Anne laments. We stifle our laughs and I revel in my reward, Anne’s lips pressing to my temple gently. “My hero. My murderous hero. Marilla would be so proud.” 

It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak Marilla’s name and not collapse under the weight of it and the realization sends my heart soaring. There was hope in her voice, even with everything happening there was hope. 

Back at the house I help Susan out of the carriage first and watch as she heads inside quickly, a one track mind as she thinks of the meal she’s looking to prepare for this evening. When she steps through the door and out of sight I climb back up onto the seat, startling Anne back so that I can lean in and capture her lips with mine. I long to distract her from the worries I see in her brow, to bring her back to the present and the fact that she was safe with me. 

“Gilbert,” she whispers excitedly, her breathing heavy as she draws back and looks up at me with a wide smile. “When did you grow so bold?” 

“Right about the time you called me murderous,” I joke and lean in once more. My hands itch to hold her, to draw her into my lap and wrap her up in my embrace, but I keep myself on a short leash and eventually withdraw to heaving breaths. “I couldn’t hold that in anymore. I’ve been trying not to since you told me to get back into bed this morning. Do you even know what you do to me?” 

She grins knowingly and shifts infinitely closer, her chest touching mine as she reaches up a tentative hand. “I feel your reaction is probably similar to mine. I want you all of the time, Gil. It’s getting harder to sleep next to you and keep my hands to myself. Surely you remember I was never good at controlling my impulses?” 

I stop breathing as she makes her admissions, her voice raspy and alluring as we share our secrets. With a forced exhale and a shiver up my spine I hold tight to her skirts and drop my head to her chest, breathing in her scent. 

“I need to put the carriage away… Will you help me?” I ask tightly, looking up at her with a glint in my eye. She blushes furiously and nods, urging me out of the carriage once more so that we can disappear into the barn. 

I make quick work of putting the carriage and equipment away as Anne does her part to turn down the horse. She names him Walter, explaining in hushed tones that he reminds her of reserved men who are wise and withdrawn. 

“I’ve never met a Walter I didn’t like,” she states as I come around the paddock and lean against the wooden beams. 

“You’re treating him better than I ever managed. Careful though, I don’t want to spoil him,” I laugh and she smiles, shrugging. 

“I’m not going anywhere so I’ll spoil him for you.” Her words have me drawing her close and leaning her up against the barn post, her blush rising from her chest. 

We don’t talk much after that. Her lips find mine and our hands tangle in each others clothes, our breaths mixing as we push and pull to give more to one another. Eventually we stumble into a hay bale and she cackles, drawing me down to her and cradling my frame in hers. Time slips and fades as we roll in the straw, bits of it slipping down our collars and scratching at our skin. She follows the pieces down with nimble hands, sliding loose my buttons and trailing her lips along my chest. I let her explore for a moment before dragging her back up to me, my fingers grazing along her collarbone as she watches me dreamily. 

“Our first time is not going to be in a barn, Doctor Blythe,” she sighs as I  nibble at the hollow of her neck. “No matter how - ah!” Her resulting gasp as my hand bodly slides up her leg jolts through me and I groan. The shiver of her under my touch makes my body sing. 

“Anne-girl, you’ve no idea what you’re doing to me,” I sigh into her ear, rocking against her as her leg comes to wrap around my hip. It’s wanton and forward and it stuns me for a moment, my lips finding hers in a kiss that tips the world on its axis. 

“Oh, I think - Gil!” She laughs heartily and moans as my body rubs against hers. It feels too good, too overwhelming, and I know that if I don’t stop I’m going to regret ever inviting her out here to the barn. 

With a herculean strength I force myself onto my back in the hay, my eyes closing tightly as I struggle for air. My pants are tight and my skin is on fire, my heart racing in my chest. Her hand finds mine and it grips tightly, her head shifting to look at me. 

“You’re right - it won’t be in the barn,” I mumble, feeling her gaze on me. 

“What if I told you that that was just silly talk?” She counters playfully and I snap my eyes open to look at her, the mischievous smile on her face nearly undoing me. “You’ve got me all riled up, Doctor,” she whispers. 

I swallow thickly and force myself to my feet, putting some space between us. “No. Don’t tempt me. I’m weak and I’ll give in,” I reach out my hands to help her up, grunting as she bounds into my chest and giggles, her eyes alight. 

“You’ve got hay  _ everywhere _ ,” she answers, her hands picking the pieces from my hair. I mimic her movements but it’s almost no use, there’s too much and no amount of plucking will mask the reason we’ve come in here. 

“Oh well. Maybe Susan won’t notice,” I say with a shrug, stilling my movements and looking back down at the beauty in my arms. 

“Impossible. Might as well make it worth it though.” Her voice drops and she lifts her hands to my cheeks, guiding me down to her and holding me in a kiss that nearly knocks me off of my feet. When I pull away she sighs, leaning against me as I steady us both back on our feet. 

“We should head in,” I whisper, reluctance evident as she nods briskly. I say a small prayer that this will all be over soon, that she’ll be free to do as she pleases and make her own choices. Only then will I give in to my desires and only if she chooses me after everything happens. 


	17. Sixteen

I see Thomas Hughes everywhere I go the first few days, walking on eggshells as I go about my business day in and day out. For a moment I wish he would disappear, go back to whichever hell he came from, but then I remember that as long as he’s hanging around me he’s leaving Anne alone and it makes it almost comforting to find him in the cafe across the street or loitering outside of the surgery on the odd afternoon. 

I put on a mask each day, one that pretends everything is alright, and neither myself nor Anne really believe it. We know that Roy is on his way and that it’s only a matter of time before he arrives in the Glen, ready and eager to stake his claim. All we can do is be ready for him whenever he gets here. That has to be enough. 

But it’s trying. It wears on us with every passing hour and despite having each other, there’s still a chasm between us that we can’t seem to overcome no matter how hard we try. No amount of quiet words or promised glances can give us the peace we so long for. 

When Friday morning finally rolls in and I leave Anne breathless at the foot of her tiny schoolhouse I pray that everything will come to a head sooner rather than later. I was growing weary of the waiting, of holding out until she was truly able to make her own decisions. I wanted her free of this, once and for all so that she could decide if staying in the Glen was what she actually wanted. 

“Doctor Blythe,” a hollow voice greets as I look up from where I’m balancing my tea on a notebook. The tiny glass teeters, a hiss coming from my lips as I watch it tip over and crash to the ground, shattering into a million little pieces. “Oh! Oh no, I’m so sorry!” The woman moans, dropping to her knees and grasping at the edges of glass frantically. 

“No - no, don’t bother! They always give me the worst mug of the bunch and I think they’re secretly re-stocking with my efforts!” I laugh, bending down to grasp the woman’s shoulder. She looks up at me then and I take in her black eye, the way she tries to hide it with loose hair and a tipped cap. “Beth…” 

“Please - I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you Doctor!” She cries, scampering back from me a foot. I ease off and lift my hands in surrender, attempting to look as unthreatening as possible to this woman who had clearly seen better days. 

“Beth, it’s alright,” I remind her quietly, careful in my tone. She shivers before me, closing her eyes and shaking her head as she tries to breathe through the tears that clearly want to break free. “Why don’t you come inside and we can take a look at that eye?” 

With my free hand I unlock the door and hold it for her as she steps inside. She looks around slowly and works to avoid eye contact with me as I swiftly close the door behind us. 

“I didn’t - I mean, it’s fine,” she insists, glancing towards me as she hovers near the waiting chairs. I watch her as she paces, clasping my hands together in front of me as I wait her out. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Not really. I just - you see - I’m having trouble seeing since it happened and I’m concerned. I didn’t know who else to go to and the occulist is all the way in Charlottetown and Marcus - “ 

“Would you like to come into the examination room? We’ll have a look?” She turns to me and smiles sadly, nodding as she blinks up at me. I have to swallow my words, reminding myself that I needed to remain neutral here. The woman deserved treatment without my judgement, even if I wanted to pummel her husband with my own two hands. 

Motioning towards the bed I help her up to sit on the edge, holding her hand as she teeters unsteadily on the stepstool and says a small “Thanks”. 

“How long has it been like this?” I ask gently, lifting her hat and brushing her hair away from her brow. The swelling is bright and fresh, her eye red with burst blood vessels and bruising that trails vibrantly down her face. It makes my stomach curdle to think that someone had done this to her. 

“Only a day or so. Harris was crying and I tripped - “ 

“Beth,” I sigh haltingly, shifting into her view for a moment. “You don’t need to hide - “ 

“It’s not what you think, I’m just clumsy.” 

“No, you’re not. I won’t judge you Beth but you need to tell me what actually happened or I may mistreat you without realizing it, okay?” I press my fingers lightly around the area checking for broken bones and thankfully finding none. 

“He only hit me by accident,” she admits quietly, tears coming to pool in the corners of her eyes. I nod and continue my exam for another few minutes, rendering the diagnosis as something that will definitely need an occulist as soon as possible.

“I think it may be a detached retina. It’s a serious injury and if you choose not to treat it you may lose sight in the eye. I’d like you to take the afternoon train to Charlottetown and spend the evening - I’ll call ahead and ensure you get an appointment on arrival.” Beth stares at me as though I’ve grown a second head, her mouth agape. 

“I couldn’t afford to go - “ 

“It’s on me this time. I need you to get this looked at,” I urge, my expression hopeful as she looks away. There’s a strained silence as she clutches her hands in her lap, her teeth biting her lip. 

“Will you tell Marcus where I’ve gone?” She asks so lowly that I almost don’t hear her. Looking up quickly I watch her shift, watch her shoulders relax as she meets my gaze slowly. 

“Only if you want me to. I’ll claim doctor-patient confidentiality if you prefer I don’t.” She ponders that for only a moment before briskly nodding, climbing off of the table and stumbling to the side as her feet hit the floor. Righting her by her shoulders I lead her back to the entryway and provide her with train fare out of my petty cash box. 

Taking the coins with care she swallows thickly and spares a final look towards me, her voice cracking. “Thank you, Doctor Blythe. I’ll never forget you for your kindness.” And with that she disappears and heads towards the train station to wait for the next departure. 

With Beth out of harm’s way I say a small prayer of thanks for one success story this day and turn towards my paperwork. If I’ve gauged it right I should be done before the afternoon is out and I’ll be able to collect Anne from the schoolhouse without an issue. 

I’m barely through half of what I want to finish that day before the phone in the surgery rings and I’m tearing towards the edge of town, my medical bag in hand as I hustle through the streets. I know what awaits me at the end and my chest hurts with the realization of it all. 

The train station looms overhead as I enter through the ticket gate, stepping onto the platform and urging my way through the crowd of people towards the body crumpled on the ground before us. 

Beth Murphy lay unconscious, not breathing and pale as I drop to my knees beside her. She doesn’t move as I try to rouse her and my heart is in my throat as I check for vitals and any sign of life. 

“What’s wrong with her, Doc?” The Station Master asks as he crouches down beside me, his eyes wide as he watches me struggle to come to terms with what I know is true but still am determined to deny. 

I refuse to answer him for what seems like ages, fighting to bring Beth back to the world of the living even as her skin grows colder with each passing second. Around us the bodies shift and cry out as my compressions crack her ribs, the sound horrifying even though I’ve heard it time and time again. 

Though my training is sound there is nothing I can do to bring the light back into the woman’s eyes and I falter, groaning at the effort and cursing the circumstances that had led me here to this place. I’d missed the unsteadiness in her step, the confusion that she’d tried to hide. I’d missed the hidden injury and she’d collapsed here alone, without anyone to hold her hand as her body gave in to the beating she’d suffered in the last day of her life. 

With hands squeezing my shoulder I rear back angrily, whipping my medical bag to the side of the platform and stalking away with knuckles pressed into my eyes. 

“Doctor, will she be alright?” A stranger asks from afar, their voice weak. I turn and glare at them, fury barely contained within me. 

“She’s dead. Her husband murdered her.” The crowd gasps, lurching away from the body and looking appalled at the confession I’ve just uttered. It was true and I would not relent until Marcus Murphy was jailed for his crimes. “We need to call the undertaker.” 

The crowd is silent, tears slipping onto cheeks as they stand accosted and troubled. My skin crawls as I instruct the workers to help me bring Beth’s body into a holding area. I don’t know how to deal with this, the loss so fresh after something I should have prevented. 

“Doc, what do we do next?” The Station Master questions after the dust has settled and I’m merely stalling in his office. 

“What do you mean?” I shoot back, glancing around me and finding the room emptied.

“Well, they’ve come and collected her, do we need to do anything else? Is that why you’re still here?” Shifting in my seat I look up at him in shock, slowly coming down from my confusion to realize that it must have been hours since I’ve been sitting here. A quick glance out the window tells me it’s late afternoon and I scramble to my feet, looking around me abruptly. 

“No - I mean, I’ll make a report to Officer Barton, but I guess I should go… Anne - Cordelia will be looking for me,” I stumble over my words and hastily gather my things, avoiding eye contact with the Station Master who’s confusion doubles at my misnaming. I don’t stick around to see the fallout and hurry away, desperate to get to Anne and hold her in my arms.

I make my way almost frantically towards the schoolhouse, hoping beyond hope that Anne is still safe there holding late tutoring sessions. It’s not a far walk on the scale of things but still I arrive late, finding the doors locked and the building shuttered for the weekend. Groaning inwardly I turn down the road towards home, wanting to see her and tell her how much I love her before it’s too late. 

There’s a black carriage in the lane near my house when I come around the treeline. My mouth goes dry as I see crates stacked on it, understanding blossoming in my chest as a man bangs heavily at the door. 

“May I help you?” I ask evenly as I come upon my doorstep, looking up at the well-put together man. I move towards him cautiously, recognition flickering in his eyes. 

“I’ve come for what’s mine, Blythe,” Roy Gardner replies tightly, turning to raise his fist once more to the door. 

“I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for in there. It’s just me today,” I attempt. He scowls at me and mutters something incoherently, stepping down off of the stoop. 

“You’ve got her hidden away here somewhere and I’ve come to collect her. Don’t - “ He holds up his hand as I open my mouth to deny it. “Don’t interrupt me boy. She’s been gone long enough. It’s time for this dalliance to end.” 

My blood runs cold as he steps towards me, his eyes sharpening as he glances down at the ring on my finger. I twist away from his touch and scramble up to my door, my palm landing on the handle and praying the door is open. Behind it I hear a gentle click and I push it open, slamming it as soon as I’m through and clicking the lock closed before resting my head against the heavy wood. 

Outside the man shouts angrily, banging at the door and causing the hair to rise on my arms. “You’ve stolen my wife Blythe!” He screams and I exhale forcefully, turning around to where Susan is standing next to me. 

“He’s been here for hours but you weren’t answering your phone at the surgery. I wasn’t sure what to do.” She wavers, watching me breathe heavily through the stress pumping in my blood. 

“I - it’s been - there was a situation at the station and Beth Murphy died,” I finish quietly, her eyes flashing with recognition as she looks at me with horror. I nod and turn away from her, inhaling to steady my hands as I try to figure out what’s next. “Where’s Anne? Is she in her room?” I ask as I begin to head to the hallway. I need to see her, to ensure that she’s alright. 

“She isn’t home - I’d expected she would be with you,” Susan replies hastily, a new wave of concern filling her voice. Turning towards her quickly I stop breathing, sputtering as she stares at me. “It’s alright. It is. He’s here so he doesn’t have her. She’s alright,” Susan assures, her words somehow remaining steady. Bless this woman’s unflappable demeanor. 

“Susan - did she not come home after school finished?” She shakes her head and I groan, my fingers pulling at my hair as I try to think of where she is. If she wasn’t here, safe, she was somewhere where he could get her. I couldn’t protect her if she wasn’t with me. “I need to find her,” I state lowly, glancing out the front window and watching as Roy paces across my yard. 

“Surely if you go out there he’ll follow you. And what if she comes home while you’re gone? You need to stay here and wait for her!” Susan insists as she paces slowly around the kitchen. 

“But what if - “ 

“Let’s call the Turners. Let’s see if they can find her wherever she is. Maybe she went in to meet you at the surgery?” I relent and grab at the phone, dialing quickly and waiting impatiently until the line is picked up on the other end. 

Breathless and weak, I ask Sarah numbly if she’s seen Anne, providing the few details that I can. It’s midway through our conversation that Roy’s yelling can be heard through the door and Sarah picks up on it through the phone. 

“I’m going to start the phone tree for the Ladies Auxiliary, Gilbert. We’ll find her and keep her safe until you can come collect her, do you hear me?” She states calmly, though I can hear the fear prickling in her voice. 

“Thank you Sarah,” I respond before hanging up the line. Beside me Susan sits heavily into a kitchen chair, watching the door with a furious anger that’s almost palpable. 

“I can’t understand what she ever saw in that man,” she hisses, listening to the rumbles of anger slipping through the cracks in the house. 

“He wasn’t like this when I met him before. He was smooth and collected and I hated him because I was jealous that Anne would want someone else,” I reply harshly, self-blame evident in my tone. 

“She blames herself you know, for all of this. She talks about how he’s the only one to blame but when it comes down to it she still thinks she’s the reason he became so angry.” I can’t deny what Susan is saying, having witnessed it myself in the quiet conversations we’d shared and the marks on her body that I’d glimpsed only briefly in our time together. 

Anne’s history was worn on her like a second skin. The marks from poorly healed wounds, from long ago injuries that she carried all of her life. I’d seen them throughout our childhood and I’d since been trying to lift them from her shoulders, if only so that she could for once be rid of them. But I’d failed and she’d dived head first into something that had taken everything from her, stolen years of her life. I couldn’t watch it happen again. 

“I’m calling Officer Barton,” I whisper as it all comes into place in my mind. I won’t stand by again. Anne would not become Beth Murphy. 


	18. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a cliffhanger here! I hope, if you celebrate, you're having a wonderful holiday!

“I’m her husband!” Roy shouts as Barton wheels around to face him. I stand on my porch, arms crossed over my chest as I look down at the two men. 

“I’m sorry sir, but that doesn’t seem likely. Do you have any proof?” Barton questions further, his hands on his hips. 

“Of course he doesn’t - “ 

“Doctor, please let me handle this,” Barton intejects, holding up his hand to me. I could practically feel the exhaustion pouring off of him, the day’s events already wearing him thin. 

“I’ve got our marriage certificate here,” Roy argues, shoving a piece of paper into the man’s chest. Barton unfolds it and reads the scrawl, glancing between us. 

“Sir, this certificate is made out for a woman by the name of Anne Shirley Cuthbert… The woman who lives here doesn’t go by that name. Perhaps you’re mistaken?” 

“She’s disguised herself, Officer. She has taken up with this man who she knew from school. I’ve done the research - I’m certain it’s her,” Roy snears, forcing himself to remain calm as Barton looks over the paper again. “Look - I’ve got a photo!” 

My heart sinks as Roy tears back towards his carriage. I hadn’t - Anne had never mentioned a photo. They were still rare around here, it hadn’t seemed likely that one would exist… But then Anne had always been fanciful and would have dreamed of her wedding being captured on film.  

“It’s our wedding photo. You see? It’s her!” Roy thrusts the image into his hand and Barton looks up towards me, his face unreadable. “I demand that this man produce my wife at  _ once _ .” 

There’s a weighted pause as Barton looks between the two documents carefully, his gaze sliding up towards me as I shake my head almost imperceptibly. His lips form a tight line and he looks back towards Roy, handing him the papers abruptly. 

“I’m sorry sir, but we’ll need to find another way to resolve this issue. I can’t verify these documents today. Perhaps you’ll be best to find a place for the night and we can investigate this more clearly in the morning,” Barton states evenly and prepares for Roy to explode at his answer. 

But he doesn’t. A calm fury washes over the man and he steps towards his carriage, climbing into it and forcefully cracking the reins. Without another word he takes off down the laneway towards town and leaves Barton and I standing in shock in my yard. 

“You’ve got a lot to explain, Doctor,” Barton growls, motioning towards the house as we head inside. Susan leaps back from the door as we step through, her eyes wide as she looks up at the man. 

“Gilbert - Sarah called. Cordelia...” Her voice rises an octave as Barton snaps his gaze towards her. 

“Cordelia? Or Anne Shirley? Someone needs to start telling me what the hell is going on,” he instructs and stands angrily in the kitchen as I try to help him understand just what sort of tangled web we’ve weaved. “So they are the same girl? And she came here of her own volition?” 

“Yes - to get away from him. She’s been hiding here because it’s wasn’t safe to go back home and she couldn’t stay there or he’d kill her. We only went about this to try to legitimize her getting away from him. We hadn’t thought - we didn’t think there would be anything that would prove his claims.” 

The truth fills the space around us, the tension palpable as I try to explain our reasoning. Barton listens without expression, his eyes thoughtful as I recount all of the ways that she’s shown signs of her abuse since coming to the Glen. I realize as I explain it that when you say it all at once it’s much more damaging, the scale of it almost insurmountable. 

“I only wanted to keep her safe. Just like I wanted to help Beth.” I hammer home the point and watch as the man’s steely look shifts into a moment of regret, a hot wave of pain coming over him as he looks away abruptly. 

“I believe you, Doc. I do. But I can’t do anything if - “ 

“She doesn’t press charges. I know. Can you promise that he’ll leave her alone if she exposes herself and does so?” Barton shakes his head and looks away, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon. 

“That guy has money. He’ll take it to court and he’ll win. That’s how it always happens. He won’t go to jail and she’ll be stripped of everything she’s built here. Nobody will hire her once they find out what she’s done. There’s no easy way for a woman to escape this,” he admits and glances up towards me. “I’m sorry.” 

In a fit of frustration I pull at my hair and leave the room, stalking towards my bedroom and slamming the door closed without warning. I yell once, twice, lashing out angrily at the pillows on my bed before returning to the kitchen and looking between Susan and Barton. 

“I’m going to go find Anne and then she’s spending tonight here, with us. With her family. And then I’m taking her back to Avonlea and we will keep running until that man is jailed for his crimes,” I hiss before looking at Susan expectantly. “You’re welcome to come with us but if you don’t we won’t hold it against you.” 

“Doc, I don’t think - “ Barton starts. 

“I have nothing else. Nothing. If he takes her away - I can’t do it again,” I shout and look pointedly out the window to hide my fears. I starve for air, my chest aching as I look back towards the man who could do nothing to help us. “I won’t let him do what Murphy did.” The day’s events crowd in and I picture Beth smiling in my office, her lifeless body on the cold wooden floor and the anger of Roy Gardner screaming on my porch. It’s too much and my body shakes as I stalk towards the door and yank it open, the phone ringing behind me as I head towards the barn. 

I ready the horse quickly and I’m half through the yard when Barton catches up with me, trotting alongside as he looks me over. “That was Elizabeth Collins on the phone. She thinks someone’s broken into your office.” 

We don’t need to say what we’re thinking as we tear off towards town, my horse being pressed to the limit as we cover the blooming fields as fast as possible. When we reach the edges of town we disembark, sharing a look as we round the corner towards the street nearest the surgery. 

“Perhaps you should leave this to me, Doc,” Barton suggests, looking up and down the sidewalks carefully. I shake my head and step past him, eyes peeled for Anne. 

“She’s here. I know she is,” I state and come upon the surgery door. The window is smashed and a figure looms in the shadows near the desk, his figure imposing as I join him in the waiting area. “Gardner, you need to leave!” I shout, hands clenched at my sides. 

The man turns towards me and smiles, his hair black as night as he looks me over. Thomas Hughes shifts on his feet and shrugs, walking past me on his way out of the surgery. “She wasn’t here either,” he grumbles as he passes. 

I turn to Barton then who watches him pass, his eyes wide and questioning. We follow him out into the street and watch dumbly as a woman stumbles out of the cafe across the road, falling down to the dirt in a heap of skirts and black hair. Hughes laughs, standing off to the side and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well, look what the cat soused out afterall…” Hughes crows as I take a step towards Anne.

“Wait,” Barton instructs and grabs at my shoulder, holding me to this side of the street as Roy Gardner steps onto the sidewalk across the way. My blood boils and I lurch forward, Barton’s hand on my arm solid as he keeps me in place. “Gain witnesses!” He hisses and I look at him, appalled as I try to fight free of his grip. 

“Roy,” Anne’s voice cuts through the air and slams into my chest, rearing me back to look at her as she slowly gets to her feet. Faces line the windows of the cafe and nearby shops as her shoulders square towards the man, her expression neutral as she bats the dirt off of her dress.

“My pet, I’ve finally come to take you home!” He delights in saying, rushing towards her with outstretched arms. She stumbles backwards and somehow manages to slap him away, the crack of her palm on his skin loud in the empty street.

“I’m never coming home with you. This is my home now,” she spits. Roy takes the rejection in stride and smiles, sighing. 

“You think you belong here? With these country bumpkins who don’t know a filet from a porterhouse? You make me laugh,” he adds with a chuckle. “No - that simply won’t do. Mother is expecting a full reimbursement for the amount she lent you or she’ll take the heir you promised her when you left. Either one will suffice.” 

I lurch towards the man and grunt as Barton once again comes between us, his hands grabbing at my shoulder and pushing me back a step. Roy laughs loudly, jarringly, and it grates against my nerves as I watch Anne shudder at his words. He’s shoved a knife between her ribs and now he’s twisting it, enjoying the way she starts to come apart. 

“I will never give you want you want, Roy,” she hisses, inching closer as she draws her shoulders back. She glows with the rage that comes to her surface, her tears drying up and her expression locking in place. A fierce girl stands before us, fire roiling within her. “We are not compatible. We are nothing to each other except punching bags. You’ve locked me up and stolen years from my life for what? Failed pregnancies that only embarrass you? You think the bruises weren’t embarrassing enough?” 

“I can do as I please to keep control of my household, or have you forgotten the vows that we said? You promised to be mine and I will not relinquish you. You’re coming home with me,” he growls and captures her wrist in his hand, jerking her forward. 

“I will  _ not _ ,” she responds and pulls herself free. The hit comes before we can stop it, Roy’s palm lashing through the air and colliding with Anne’s cheek in a sound that makes those in the windows gasp. It’s not a second later that Barton has tackled the man to the ground, Hughes stepping back as Barton orders brisk commands as he binds the man’s hands behind him. 

I find myself at Anne’s feet in a flash, my hands lifting to her face and fluttering over the reddened skin as it begins to darken into a bruise. “Anne, oh love,” I whisper, desperate to soothe her panicked breathing and the way her body shakes. A part of me keeps my distance, afraid she’ll be scared off if I get too close. But she doesn’t. In a drawn out second she meets my gaze head on and collapses into me, climbing onto my frame and holding herself as closely as she can as I move us to a bench along the sidewalk.

Neither of us let go as Barton drags Roy down the street, his screaming voice trailing off in the distance. Beside us Hughes slinks back into the shadows, his cocky grin having disappeared at the way Barton had taken down his boss. I don’t care where they’ve gone. I only care about the girl in my embrace who’s practically crawled into my skin for comfort. She’s all I can think about right now. 

It’s only later, when the street is still and the frayed nerves have softened that Anne pulls back from my chest with a shaking sigh. Her eyes snake up to mine, red from the tears and swollen from battle. I let my thumb ghost over the skin there, watching as she shivers from the touch. 

“I had to make him do it,” she says, looking abruptly away from me. I turn her back to my gaze and smile gently, urging her to continue. “Nobody ever believed me because they didn’t see it. When he came into the cafe I tried to make him leave but he refused. He told everyone everything, Gil. They all know.” 

“It’s okay. We can deal with that,” I reply though my voice cracks. I pull her back against me in a tight hug, breathing through the last remnants of adrenaline in my system. “I wanted to kill him, Anne. I thought I was going to put him in the ground if Barton didn’t get in my way. I couldn’t stand to watch him hurt you again. To laud those things over your head - I couldn’t.”

“He doesn’t have that power over me anymore. I thought he would when I saw him again but he didn’t. I just hated him so much,” she sighs and gives herself a shake, sitting up abruptly and looking around us. “This town is going to want me to leave. They won’t want someone like me here when the word spreads.” 

“Anne,” I urge, clasping her hands tightly in my lap. “They won’t turn on you. Sarah is making calls now and if having anyone on your side is important it’s having her. And they’ve all - I mean, they saw what happened. No one can blame you for wanting to get away from that. You’re safe here.” 

With her eyes wide and hesitant, she looks up at me for a moment. “I want to go home, Gil. I want to say goodbye to Marilla.” 

My heart aches as I pull her into me once more, tucking her head against my chest as the adrenaline fades and she begins to cry softly into my shirt. I hold her to me as though she were prone to float away, her ties to this world so weak that she could disappear in the blink of an eye. 

If she wanted to go home then I had to be okay with that. I wouldn’t stand in her way, not after everything she’d been through. She was free to do what she wanted to and if Avonlea was where she wanted to settle then I would let her go once more. I could do that for her even if it felt like my world was falling apart to think about it. 

“Blythe, oh thank god you’ve found her!” Michael says as he hustles down the street towards us, breathless. “I was trapped in a meeting and just got Sarah’s message so I came out to look - Oh!” He steps back as Anne looks up at him, her black eye growing more prominent with every second. It catches him off guard and he holds a hand to his chest, his eyes wide. “My dear girl - where is he?” 

Michael’s hands begin rolling up the sleeves of his shirt abruptly, turning on his heel as he looks out at the passersby and tries to find Gardner in the crowd. “He’s already gone, Mr Turner. Officer Barton took him,” Anne states clearly, watching as the man’s face relaxes slightly. 

“Good - that’s good then. What kind of doctor are you Blythe if you’re not treating her yet?” Michael snaps, leaning down to look at her bruising more closely. Anne smiles gently and looks towards me, her hand coming to rest on my chest. 

“He’s been treating me with love, Mr Turner. It’s been more effective than any salve or compress he could offer,” she admits lowly before looking back towards the man. “But I won’t say no to a little peace and quiet, if that were a possible option. I don’t think I’m up to explaining to the people of the Glen what’s happened today. Not now at least.” 

“Home then?” I offer and get to my feet, helping her stand and catching her as she stumbles to the side. Beth flashes in my mind’s eye and a panicked sweat tickles at my spine, my hands careful as I guide her to a steady stance. 

“Yes, please. Thank you Mr Turner, for your concern. Hopefully we’ll see you soon?” Anne adds as she grips my hand tightly in hers. 

“Of course, dear girl. Don’t worry about a thing here in town. We’ll smooth things over!” 

We leave Michael to head back towards my horse, climbing onto it in silence. This time Anne doesn’t hesitate to lean into me once she’s settled on the saddle, her fingers looping in the straps of my suspenders and her face resting fully against my chest. An aching sigh slips from her lips as we get on our way, the ride home much slower than the barreling gait I’d taken into town earlier. 

Dusk arrives as we enter the small house, Susan’s worried expression greeting us at the door and steering Anne towards her room without hesitation. I mill about in the kitchen as the woman settles her into bed, my mind working overtime as I try not think about the parallels between the two women and the fate that awaits us tomorrow. They were questions too big to answer now and all I needed to do in this moment was watch out for her. 

“Why don’t you go in and sit with her, Gilbert?” Susan suggests as she returns to my side, taking the kettle off of the stove and resting her hand softly on my elbow. She looks up at me and squeezes my arm, her expression softening. “She was asking for you.” 

I don’t need more prodding than that. Finding my way down the hallway I slip into her room and pull the footstool from the end of her bed up to the side, slumping onto it as she rolls over to face me. Her colouring is all off from the bruise and I have to swallow the lump in my throat. 

“Why are you all the way over there?” She mumbles as her hand reaches out for me. I grasp it between mine and smile sadly, lifting her knuckles to my lips. 

“You need rest,” I reply carefully, attempting to keep my worries in check. She must sense them in me because she frowns and struggles to sit up, her hand coming up to press to her temple with a hiss. “Anne - stop! Just stay still before you hurt yourself more.” 

“It’s fine - what’s gotten into you? You’re acting strangely.” I watch as she leans against the headboard, her brow tight as she evaluates me. 

“We can talk about it tomorrow. For now I just want you to relax. You’ve taken a hard hit and  - “

“Gil, I’m fine. This is nothing,” she adds and waves her hand about her face. I feel it like a slap, understanding of her history blossoming brightly once more in my chest. If this was nothing… The rage builds in me and I clench my fists, looking out the window for a moment to steady myself. “Please talk to me, Gil.” 

“It’s been a hard day. We should both get some rest.” 

“I won’t get any if I’m worried about you. Tell me what’s going through that head of yours, I know it’s not just this. I can practically see the gears turning,” she adds, reaching for me. I lean forward and let my head hang between my knees, the breath rasping out of my chest. 

“Beth Murphy died this afternoon at the train station,” I mumble. Her surprised gasp makes me sit up, shame fluttering through me. “She was just like you, Anne. Stuck. Abused. She left behind a son and it’s my fault because I told her to go to Charlottetown to see the occulist and gave her train fare for it. But she didn’t even get to board the damn train. I didn’t realize her head injury was more severe. I missed it and now her son doesn’t have a mother.” Anne’s breathing quickens and when I glance up at her it’s with tears in my eyes, my chest aching as she closes her eyes. “I missed it, Anne.” 

“You didn’t. It’s not your fault,” she soothes, shifting and running her hands through my hair. Leaning towards me she presses her forehead to mine, her palms cupping my chin and holding me still. “What happened to her was horrible and lonely but I know how she felt when you helped her because you helped me too. She wasn’t in this by herself, not in the end. You were there to help her and she understood that.” 

“She still died. By herself on that damn platform, she still died,” I growl, anger and hurt rolling through me as Anne crowds in closer. 

“It’s not your fault. It isn’t.” 

Looking back towards her I exhale shakily and lift my hand to her brow, my thumb ghosting over the bruising as she closes her eyes reflexively. “This isn’t fine, Anne,” I state numbly, dropping my hand into my lap as she opens her eyes once more. It’s too much to focus on tonight. If I didn’t escape it I’d surely drown in the agony of it all. “I’ll be in to check on you throughout the night, okay?” 

She watches me with a stunned expression as I get up and head towards the door, forcing myself out of the room before I crumble under the weight of the day’s events. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes in treating Anne as I did with Beth. I was going to pay attention and watch for the signs. I was going to ensure she made it to Avonlea to grow old and live out her life happily, free from everything that had once trapped her. Including me. 


	19. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... here's where the rating comes in!

It’s midnight before I finally settle into my bed, the dark house around me having kept me company as I watched the fire die down. Throughout the evening I’d kept to a schedule of checking on Anne, poking my head through her door and listening for the soft sounds of her breathing to assure me that she was alright. Every time I did I felt my shoulders relax a little bit more, my own breathing becoming easier as I closed the door and turned back towards the living room. 

The day had tangled up all of the worries and fears that had been compounding these last months and laid them out before me on a silver platter. They twisted and evolved along with the flickering flames and with every passing hour I found myself stomping down another possibility, sure that it would all be resolved tomorrow. 

Slipping between my covers I sigh as the cool cotton slips against my skin. The ceiling overhead is not interesting enough to keep me awake and soon I’m drifting off to sleep, the adrenaline of the day having finally run me dry. 

When I wake up it’s still dark outside, the moon casting shadows around my room as I try to pinpoint what had dragged me back to the world of the living. It’s then I feel it, the small hand splayed against my back and the warm breaths tickling my shoulder. 

I turn over as slowly as I can, looking down at the dark mess of hair that pools around Anne’s face. In this light you almost can’t tell that she’s injured, her expression soft with sleep and her lips twisted up in a smile. I don’t know how to process what I feel finding her here with me, after everything.  _ Was she here because she was scared? Or because she wanted to be close to me?  _

The questions pour in then and I exhale, closing my eyes and trying to will myself back to sleep before the thoughts start spinning out of control. 

“Gil,” her whisper breaks through and I open my eyes to find her staring at me. 

“What are you doing here?” It blurts out of me and she recoils, brow furrowing. 

“I don’t - what do you mean?” She asks carefully, sitting up abruptly to gaze down at me. She looks scorned and it fills the room with a tense silence as I try to find my words. Nothing comes to mind and I roll onto my back, shoving my fists into my eyes. “Gil, what’s going on with you?” 

“Can we talk about it tomorrow? I’m tired,” I lie, desperate to give my heart some space. I was confused. I had tricked myself into thinking this was forever and now the bitter truth lay before me and I couldn’t deal with it. 

“Are you asking me to leave?” It hangs between us on a thin wire, a string that’s ready to snap. Part of me wants to say yes - to end this uncertainty and push her away before she can leave me but the other part of me, the desperate part, wants to drag her to my chest and never let her go. “I’m taking your silence as a yes and while I don’t understand, I’m not going to force you!” She hisses and throws back the covers, stalking to my door and pulling it open. 

I watch her go, my heart in my throat as I destroy the one thing I’ve truly wanted all of my life. 

The next morning comes in with cloudy skies, soft rain pattering on the roof as I turn listlessly under my covers. The bed feels empty without Anne here and I try not to think about it, forcing myself up and into the world of the living. 

“Good morning,” Susan quips as I enter the kitchen, a despondent Anne sitting at the table sipping her tea. She’s still in her nightgown and sweater, her arms crossed on the table as she refuses to look up at me. “Would you like some toast? Or oatmeal?” Susan continues, shooting me a hesitant smile. The woman can tell there’s something going on between us and her expression shows it. 

“Just some toast and tea this morning,” I reply softly, sitting down in the chair across from Anne. Susan makes quick work of the plating and sets the items down before me, slipping out the kitchen door without so much as a word spared for us. 

Silence stretches out between us, Anne’s gaze averted as I nibble at the hearty bread. When I sense words on my lips I lift the tea to my mouth and gulp back the burning liquid, reluctant to be the first to break the tension. 

At least I try to hold back until she looks up at me with her bruised face and I see the sadness colouring her features. “How are you feeling?” I reach out towards her and she leans back, keeping a distance between us that hurts more than I want to admit. 

“Fine. Are you well rested?” She answers evenly though her eyes spark. 

“No. Are you?” With a shake of her head she sighs and looks away, lip between her teeth. 

“Was this all a ploy to help me? Did you really want to marry me at all?” I watch her as she runs a hand through her hair, the red roots starting to once again show as the black slips down over her shoulders. I long to let my hand join hers, to be there when the last of the black disappears. 

“None of what I’ve done was a ploy, Anne. I wouldn’t do that to you,” I reply and shift forward in my seat, pushing away my plate as she looks back at me. There’s skepticism in her gaze, a curious confusion blooming in her expression. “But my home is here in the Glen. My practice is here. I can’t go with you back to Avonlea - there’s no place for me there.” 

My admission escapes me before I can stop it. The truth of our struggle lays on the table between us now and I know there’s nothing more I can argue, nothing I can do to make it seem like there’s a possibility for us. If she wanted to go home I couldn’t - wouldn’t - stop her. 

“And can I not make my home wherever I so choose?” She states hotly, sitting up and looking at me with a flash of anger. “Are you telling me I have to leave? Not just your bed but your home? Because that’s not fair Gilbert - that’s not right after everything you’ve said to me!” 

“What do - leave? You think I  _ want  _ you to leave? Anne! You said yesterday that you wanted to go home! What am I to think?” 

“I  _ do _ want to go home! With you, you fool! I want to visit Marilla’s grave and see Diana and - “ 

“Stay there. Build your life  _ there _ . Right? But my life is  _ here _ , Anne. It’s in the Glen.” She rears back at that and shakes her head, her eyes closing as she gets to her feet. In another second she’s at my side, sunk to her knees before me and her hands in mine. 

“Gil - I don’t want to live in Avonlea. I don’t even particularly want to live in the Glen. My only requirement for where I spend the rest of my life is that it’s wherever  _ you _ are.” Her words roll over me and I feel my heart stumble, my hands clasping tighter around hers. “You silly boy. Did you believe after all of this that I would choose to leave you?” 

I look away, ashamed of my fears as she moves to stand before me. “I didn’t want to keep you in a life you didn’t choose. I wouldn’t be that man to you.” 

“You’ve never made me think that you would be,” she whispers and lifts my chin with her hand. Her grey eyes meet mine and she smiles, leaning down to press her lips to mine. I sink into her willingly, relief flooding through me as she crawls onto my lap and wraps her arms around my shoulders. 

“I thought - “ I murmur in between kisses, my hands lifting to tangle in her mane of hair. 

“You think far too much, Doctor Blythe,” she interjects with a laugh. Her fingers graze up the back of my neck and into my hair and I gasp at the feel of it, revelling in the way she shifts against me suggestively and draws my breath into her lungs. 

The kitchen door slapping closed causes Anne to jump back, a shout of surprise bursting from her lips as Susan steps into the room. With a clatter of things dropping to the floor and a furious blush colouring all of our faces Susan stutters out an apology and half-walks, half-runs, back out into the yard. 

Laughter bubbles out of my chest as the girl before me hides her face in her hands. I stand and pull her to my chest, my lips pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “That’ll teach us,” I chuckle and breathe in the scent of her. She groans and wraps her arms around my waist, her fingers playfully slipping under the tails of my shirt. 

“Teach us? Is the lesson that we should go to your room?” Her voice is raw, her eyes searching as she looks up and captures my gaze. I swallow the lump in my throat at her proposition. 

I’d held a barrier between us and promised myself that I would wait - wait until she was no longer under threat, until she could choose for herself what she wanted - and now she was free to do what she wished. Barton had dragged Gardner away and with it the binds that held Anne to him. They were married still but marriage for us had never been about something as practical as paperwork. Hell, our marriage was still only actualized on paper. 

“Are you certain? The risks...” I rasp, referring to all of the possibilities that lay before us. Though Anne was convinced she couldn’t carry a child I still reserved my doubts, fearful that this could lead to something we weren’t ready for. Or something I wasn’t ready for. If we lost a child.. I wasn’t sure I could handle it - I’d only just gotten her back. 

“I’m more certain than I’ve ever been in my entire life,” she responds and presses a kiss to each of my palms. In another breath I shove the thoughts away and I lift her into my arms, carrying her down the hallway, distractedly bumping into the walls as she kisses me blind. Somehow I find my way and I kick the door shut, tumbling onto the mattress in a heap of limbs and clothes. 

I force myself to breathe as her hands loop around my neck, dragging me down to her so that I nearly collapse my entire frame onto hers. I half expect her to be crushed under my weight and so when I move to lift myself to my knees she groans and traps me against her, a leg wrapped around mine and her hand clasped to my lower back. 

“I like it,” she grins between nips, her fingers working to release the clip of my suspenders so that she can shove the clothing away and splay her hands across my spine. The touch of her skin on mine causes my body to jolt and she moans at the press of me between her legs. 

A voice in the back of my mind shouts at me to be better, to anticipate her moves and give her everything but I’ve no idea what I’m doing and it shows as I struggle with where to put my hands. The flush that creeps up into my cheeks makes her smile, her movements slowing as she stills and looks up at me with wide eyes. 

“Anne,” I whisper as she brushes a curl out of my eyes. It’s enough to convey my nerves, my wants, and she takes it and holds it close to her in her next breath. 

“It’s my first time too, remember?” She murmurs, a hand snaking up my spine and causing my muscles to ripple under her touch. It feels too good and I release a shaky breath, dropping my head into the crux of her neck. 

“I’ve no idea what I’m doing,” I mumble before chancing a glance her way. “Like, anatomically I get it, but in practice...” I sigh and brush a thumb over the bruising on her cheek. 

“There’s nothing that you can do that will make this any less perfect,” she responds gently. I find her lips with mine and try to convey with my kiss how much I want her, how much I need her. She returns it earnestly and then grabs at my hand, moving it to the end of her nightgown and closing my fist around it. “Do what feels right, okay?” 

With a nod and a shaking hand I roll onto my side and slowly drag her nightgown up her leg, exposing the pale skin and making her inhale tightly. My movements still as I graze her stomach, her undergarments reaching to below her belly button and exposing the rest of her to my calloused fingers. I trace a line from hip to hip and revel in the way her skin flutters at my touch, her lips gasping against my neck. 

Continuing my exploration I urge her upward and pull the nightgown over her head in a quick movement. Her hair falls across her chest and I stop breathing, my eyes drinking her in before sliding up to meet hers. “You’re beautiful,” I whisper, a hand hovering over her pale skin. 

“And you’re entirely too clothed,” she counters playfully and yanks at the shoulders of my shirt, attempting to pull it over my head but being wholly unsuccessful. I chuckle and help her, moving to the edge of the bed and standing to remove my shirt and then my trousers. I stand before her with my nerves fraying, watching her face for any sign of displeasure at what she sees. All I see then is the want, the desire, and it spurs me onward. 

With a smoothness I envy Anne crawls to the edge of the bed and lifts to capture my lips with hers, her hands exploring my chest and causing me to shudder under her touch. I return the favour and let my hands ghost over her skin and up to her breasts, relishing the way she shivers as my hands cup her gently. 

Her throaty moan has me following her back onto the bed, my body covering hers as she cradles me to her. Our hands explore one another until I feel as though I’ll burst out of my skin if I don’t touch more of her. With bold movements I slip my hands below the waistband of her undergarments and smile into her kiss as she rolls us so that I’m holding her to me with my hands splayed across her backside. 

“Off - take them off,” she demands, following my movements and grasping at the cotton that covers my hips. In a frantic minute we find ourselves bare before one another, our chests heaving as our eyes slip over our bodies. Anne is the first to swallow audibly, her gaze dropping between my thighs and then staring at me with wide eyes. “Gil,” she breathes, looking between my legs and my face quickly before laying back on the bed. 

I shift uncomfortably as I wonder what has her worried. As far as I knew there was nothing wrong with me, I was normal by anyone’s standards, and yet here she was, tentative as she reached up towards me. “Is everything - “ She doesn’t let me finish, pulling me towards her hastily and tangling her hands in my hair. 

In my daze I feel her hand slip between us, grasping at me gently before shifting her hips. The heat of her draws me forward and in a fevered second I join us together, my hips stilling as she yelps and bites her lip. Her eyes close tightly and for a moment I think I’ve hurt her, my hand reaching to brush along her brow. “Anne,” I urge, begging her to look at me. To tell me she’s alright. 

“I’m okay,” she whispers in return, opening her eyes. I see the tears collecting there and I kiss her abruptly, desperate to take on whatever she’s feeling. “It’s just - you’re more than - “ Her roundabout words make me blush furiously as I understand what she’s saying, a small flicker of pride flashing in my chest. 

“Shh,” I chuckle reactively and let myself move for the first time, nearly coming apart right then and there at the feel of her. She shifts and moans, the sound urging me forward as my arms bracket her head. We don’t talk after that, our bodies working together, writhing and sliding, hands exploring and grasping against skin. 

“It feels so…” she murmurs, her nails biting into my shoulders. I nip at her collar and wrap a hand around her thigh, holding it to mine as I shift and push myself deeper. “Gil!” My name on her lips is what I need to make my heart skip. In the next beat I’ve pulled her atop me, my fingers tangling in her hair and my body alive for her. 

I don’t have much willpower left in me, the feel of her too good to keep holding onto, so instead I turn my attention to her body. I take it slowly, whispering questions of what she likes so that my fingers can drag her higher. I spend time listening to the sounds she makes, adjusting and seeking out that exact place where she becomes breathless. It’s there that I watch the red flush spread across her skin, my own lungs struggling for air as I watch her lose herself in my touch.

When I eventually slide into her again it’s with her legs astride my hips, our bodies as close together as they can be without sharing skin. She’s the first to come apart, her body taunt above me as she rises and leans back, her hair tickling my thighs as I drive up into her. The moan that slips from her lips echoes in my chest and I hold her to me as she falls forward and cries out into my shoulder. My rhythm falters and my hips jerk up into her a final time, emptying myself inside of her and savouring the way her body collapses onto mine. 

No imagination or wayward dream had ever prepared me for what it felt like to feel Anne above me, her body clasping mine as she reacted to my touch and kissed me with all the love that we’d bottled up since we were young. It was like flying, like finding the missing piece in a puzzle that had always remained unfinished. When she looks at me then, sated and calm for the first time in years, I see a glimpse of happiness fill her and I feel weightless with it. 


	20. Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this so far - we're getting close to the end and I can't tell you how much it means to hear from you that you're liking this story. Seriously - you guys are wonderful!

“There was apparently a warrant out on Mr Gardner,” Officer Barton says when we open the door to him later that week. Anne shifts away and looks towards Susan, the older woman’s arms coming to loop around her waist as I show Barton into the parlour. Nobody sits as he explains what happened after he bound Gardner’s hands and pulled him out of the street. 

“You mean he’ll be facing a trial on the mainland?” Anne asks when he finishes, looking between Susan and I with wide eyes. 

“Yes. It seems he had a heavy hand with more than just you, Mrs Blythe,” he admits evenly, resting his hands on his hips. “They think he could have been responsible for a few assaults these last few months with, um… Ladies of the night.” 

I look to Anne who closes her eyes, shaking with the breath that she exhales with that news. Both Susan and I share a look then, knowing, relieved, and we look back towards Barton with our shoulders squared. 

“And what of Hughes?” 

Barton shakes his head, looking around at us. “Disappeared into thin air, from what I can tell. Nobody has seen or heard from him since that day. Probably went running scared when his boss was arrested.” 

“So what do we do now?” I question as he pauses, rocking back and forth on his feet. 

“I’d say that’s up to you. You can proceed with charges or you can let the other charges Gardner faces be enough. Either way I’d say it’s unlikely he ever comes after you again.” 

“Unlikely or certain?” I press, stepping forward with my arms crossed over my chest. I needed to be sure that Anne would no longer be under the threat of Gardner just showing up, that she could live her life without thinking he would ever come back. 

“Nothing in this world is certain, Doc. But there’s a good chance he won’t see the light of day again, let alone the Glen.” 

I look to Anne as he says it, reaching my hand out towards her. She grabs it without hesitation, tugging me towards her as she ducks her head under my chin. “He’s gone, Gil.” 

“He is,” I reply lowly, holding her to me. 

“Thank you Officer. I think we’ll be okay for this evening,” Susan says to Barton, breaking through my daze as she shows him back to the door. 

I pull back as he steps onto the porch, pressing a kiss to Anne’s brow as I look down at her. “I need to talk to him before he leaves. Give me a second.” She nods and watches as I step onto the porch and close the door, her face puzzled as I turn away. “Any word on Marcus Murphy?” I ask Barton as he faces me, my posture neutral but my insides churning. 

“Doc,” he sighs, watching as I rub my forehead and give him a pleading look. “Alright - fine. Yes. We talked with him yesterday. It doesn’t look good. That’s all I can say right now.” 

With a heavy sigh I push the air from my lungs and look back towards the house, Anne’s face peeking through the curtains. “What about Harris?” It hangs between us as the man’s brow furrows, confusion rippling through him. “The baby - what’s happening with the baby?” 

“Oh! Him. There’s a place in Charlottetown that is willing to take him - “ 

“What if a family here wanted to take him in?” It slips out of me before I realize and I see Anne in my periphery leave the window as she hears me ask. In another second she’s opening the door behind me, her eyes wide as she looks at us both. 

“Marilla would be so pleased,” she whispers to me, gripping my hand in hers.  _ Could she tell that I needed to do this? Did it matter to her why? _ Barton rubs his chin and looks out towards the setting sun, leaving me to hold Anne against my side. 

“Let me see what I can do.” I feel her fingers dig into my sides as Barton smiles at us, the first smile I’ve ever really seen out of the man since coming here to the Glen. “You sure you got time for this, Doc? A kid, it’s a lot.” 

“I got time. I’ve got all the time in the world,” I reply and hold Anne in my arms as Barton nods, looking at us both. I realize in that moment that I wanted this for more reasons than guilt. The boy deserved a home, one where he would be loved unconditionally and we could do that. We could be that home for him. 

“I’ll let you know,” he says and steps out into the yard, heading towards his horse. We watch him go, arms wrapped around each other and holding us together tightly. As the man crests the small dip in the road and disappears from sight I pull Anne against me, her lips crashing into mine. 

“Are you sure about this?” I ask seriously, rocking us slowly to a beat that didn’t exist. She sighs and nuzzles my neck, moving with me in the breeze. 

“More than sure. Just because I can’t have my own… That doesn’t mean I don’t want one. It would be wonderful to give him a home.” Her voice wavers as she admits it aloud, her face hidden in my chest. I think back to the stories she’d told me, the way her body had fought against her every time, and I draw her closer, holding her firmer. 

“Whatever happens, Anne,” I murmur into her ear to her resulting hum, her breath hot on my neck. 

“Whatever happens, Gil,” she repeats with a smile, one that runs through her and into me. 

The next day comes bright and early with a knock on the door, one that has us all looking up from our breakfast and towards the sound with trepidation in our eyes. I stand first to answer it, my heart thudding in my chest as Officer Barton stands on the porch with Harris Murphy in his arms. 

“Are you still sure, Doc?” He asks as Harris looks towards us, his small body wrapped in a shall and his ginger hair poking up in every direction. I’d forgotten the boy had red hair, his mother’s strawberry blonde almost deceptive in its colouring. With a glance towards Anne and Susan, a hesitant smile on my lips, I give them the chance to speak up. Anne only grins, getting to her feet and brushing her hands against her skirts as she steps towards us. 

“May I?” She asks carefully, reaching out to take Harris from Barton’s arms. It’s a sight that makes me swallow thickly, my throat tightening as I watch her coo at the small child. She lights up as he smiles up at her, her eyes watering with the weight of it settling around us. “Gil,” she whispers, glancing towards me and smiling so brightly I’m almost blinded. 

“I know, Anne,” I respond, wrapping my arms around them and pulling them close. I hold them as tight as I can, knowing that they were both born and abandoned, that they’d both been chosen after everything they’d been through. Harris would not want for a home as Anne had growing up. He would know our love, know his mother’s story and hear of her bravery. I would keep them both safe, as much as I could in this world. 

“Isn’t he a darling?” Susan says as she comes to join us, her eyes sparkling as she looks between the three of us. “Has he come to stay then?” She asks Barton, hesitant to grow too involved without being sure. 

“His father has been charged and processed in Charlottetown,” Barton replies and then looks to me, his eyes knowing. “He won’t be coming back anytime soon.” 

With school out and the practice slow, our small family of four spends most of the month at home, adjusting into our new reality as though it was always meant to be this way. Anne moves permanently into my room, turning the spare room she’d occupied into a nursery with Sarah’s help. The hand-me-downs from the boys come in handy as we find ourselves at a loss for clothing Harris, our home not quite ready to have welcomed an infant so quickly. 

The Turners are lifesavers when it comes to helping us adjust, offering us invitations to dinners and tips on how to help Harris sleep through the night. Though Anne has had plenty of experience with children over the years through her teaching, she quickly realizes that the childhood memories of dealing with babies are foggy at best. 

“I forgot how horrible dirty diapers were,” she laments one sunny afternoon, collapsing onto our bed as I stir from an afternoon nap. A call the night before for a case of pneumonia had kept me away for most of the morning and I could have kissed Susan when she directed me silently to my room with a chunk of freshly baked warm bread. 

“I will admit, that’s not the thought that crossed my mind when you walked into this room,” I mumble and roll onto my side to run my hand across her stomach. She groans and turns towards me, her eyes sparking playfully. 

“Mmm, what exactly crossed your mind, Doctor Blythe?” She replies before lifting my hand to her lips. “Nothing improper, I hope.” 

“You’re poking a dangerous beast,” I grin. In the next moment I’ve pinned her beneath me, her breath hot on my neck as she watches me with wide eyes. Where once this move would have made her recoil she now leans into it, licking her lips in anticipation. 

“I didn’t think diapers - “

“Stop,” I groan, trailing my lips along her throat as she laughs. The sound dances along my spine, curling in my belly and setting my skin on fire. She tastes sweet and I want for more, my teeth nibbling at her ear. 

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Gil,” she breathes as my hand slips to her chest, grasping her through her clothes. There’s too many layers of them, I’m quite sure. 

“That’s just my schedule. You didn’t seem to mind it before,” I reply and return my attention to the hollow of her neck. “If you want me to stop though, just tell me and I will.” 

“I don’t want you to, that’s the problem. What if Susan comes home from the store and we’re - “ I silence her with a kiss, one that steals her breath and has her following me upwards, her hands gripping tightly to my shoulders. 

“Then we need to be quick, wouldn’t you say?” I counter before pushing my fingers below the edge of her blouse. She keens and lifts her chest into my palm, the smooth skin enticing me as I cup her and steal her breath. “Did I mention I’m so happy that you don’t wear one of those hellish devices around the house?” 

“A corset?” She laughs as her hands lift the edges of my shirt. With decisive movements she pulls it over my head, her eyes drawn to my exposed skin for a brief moment. 

“Yes. You don’t need it. Never. Always be like this. Always,” I repeat and drop my lips to her chest. Her chuckle turns into a hiss as my mouth finds her nipple through the thin fabric. 

“Oh thank god! I was always wearing it to impress  _ you _ ,” she bites back sarcastically as she regains her composure. Her hands tangle in my hair and she gives a light pull, urging me back up to her mouth. 

“I’m just saying that I far prefer being able to do this to you than for you to try to win any fashion contests.” That earns a light slap from her and she returns the feeling by slipping her hands down the back of my trousers. “See, now you understand,” I groan and shift until my trousers have slipped down my hips. 

“Gil, you’re talking too much,” she says as her hands move to grasp me. I hiss and drag my lips along her neck, my fingers pulling up her skirts until I can press my hand between her thighs. 

Bare below the layers of cotton I lift my eyes to hers, surprise evident. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” I chide and run a finger between her folds. She rises into my touch, clenching her legs together and trapping me to her. 

“I concede, Doctor.” Her words crack as I roll towards her, my gaze searching. She nods once and pulls me over her, helping me slide home into her warm embrace. 

There’s no more talking as we move together fitfully, our bodies pushing as we seek our release. With every thrust and every half breath we climb higher, sweat lining our brows as we cling to one another. No space builds between us as my chest rubs against hers and our skin creates a bewitching friction that has me groaning, her lips close enough to my ear to share her quiet pants and soft moans. 

“Gil,” she breathes against me, her fingers bruising along the nape of my neck as she drags my lips to hers. I can sense her coming apart and urge her upward with my hand, slipping between us and rubbing until she tenses, her body lifting and pulling me deeper. It’s the feel of her tightening around me that drags me with her, a soft grunt escaping me as I drive into her one last time. 

When eventually we settle, our breaths returning to normal, I chance a look towards her and find her grinning brightly, her hand clasped over her eyes. “What is it?” I ask throatily, matching her grin with mine. 

“It’s just - I didn’t realize it could feel like this,” she responds and laughs giddily, glancing down at me. I lurch towards her and capture her lips with mine, holding her face in my palms as I kiss her senseless. 

“So I’m okay?” I ask sheepishly when I pull away, nipping at her jaw as my hand works to carefully return her clothes to something a bit more presentable. 

“Okay?” She laughs, sitting up abruptly. “Gil! Have you no sense of how I feel right now? It’s like  _ flying _ . Like I’ll never come down from this cloud that I’m floating on. It’s like seeing the White Way of Delight for the first time - no! It’s  _ better _ because there’s  _ you _ .” 

I feel my heart skip as she runs her knuckles along my jaw, drawing my eyes to hers once more. It’s the most intimate gaze I’ve ever shared and I’m at a loss for words, my stomach in my throat as I see the shine of tears in her eyes. 

“I was foolish to push you away all those years ago but I didn’t realize it would be like this. Or maybe I did and it scared me away. I don’t know. All I know is that now that I have you the thought of losing you, losing this - “

“You won’t lose me. You chose me just as I did you. Bash always told me I was good at picking my family and I think you’re my best choice yet. Don’t think I don’t feel it, Anne,” I pause, hearing the baby’s cry sound out from down the hall. “You’ve just always been better at putting things into words than I have.” 

With a wide smile and one last kiss I crawl to the edge of the bed and settle my clothes, disappearing down the hallway to soothe Harris before I can say anything more. 


	21. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, the new year brings around the end of this story. There's still an epilogue to be had so don't fret too much. Thank you for coming on this journey with me, I'm so very glad you've enjoyed it! If you have any parting thoughts, suggests, or just want to connect, leave me a comment or come find me on Tumblr at lollercakesff. Love you all and I hope 2019 brings you everything you hope for!

The weather turns hot in the Glen and I finally find an apprentice in the next town over who’s willing to cover for me as I take Anne home. Susan declines the invitation, choosing instead to visit her daughter and give us what she has kindly termed ‘family building time’ which none of us will admit is actually coded words for letting Anne and I roam the house together whenever Harris is down for a nap or tucked away at night. 

Though she would never admit it, lately whenever Anne and I found each other after too long apart she would give a knowing look and then disappear out of the house for as long as she could, returning only to help us prepare supper and care for Harris throughout the evening. It was almost predictable, by now, and while it made our cheeks flush with embarrassment it was the only time we managed to find each other with the summer activities and my work calling at all hours. 

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth we took it kindly when she excused herself for her trip, preparing ourselves for the journey to Avonlea and mentally checking every box. When the day finally comes to depart I step out of the house and press my hand to her back in greeting. She holds Harris tightly in her arms as she works to convince herself off the first step. 

“It’s okay to be nervous,” I state, my hand cupping her elbow as she looks out at the waiting buggy with trepidation. 

“I’m not - I just haven’t been home since school. Is it very much different?” 

Shaking my head I step down and stand before her, urging her forward. “Some things are. But it’s still Avonlea. Just think - Diana is on the other end of this and won’t she be so thrilled to meet Harris?” 

“Oh, Diana! My sweet lovely Diana... “ She sighs and steps off the porch, closing her eyes tightly for the briefest of moments before exhaling on a rush. “It will be nice to go home. To say goodbye like I should have.” 

“Nobody holds it against you, you know. Bash and Mary remind me that with every letter. I think they’ve made sure to fill the rumour mill with so many other things,” I chuckle, thinking of Bash’s story about the children in the Easter play and their off-key meandering songs. 

“I’m glad we’re going, Gil. I am. I’m just nervous.” I don’t offer her any words for that, choosing instead to help her into the buggy and begin our trip to the station. 

We travel through the day and into the early evening, trips up and down the train cars to soothe a mutinous Harris as the travel wears him out. When finally we pull into the station near Avonlea it’s with a sense of relief, of peace, that we disembark and collect ourselves on the platform. 

“Anne!” A voice calls excitedly, Diana Wright crashing through the people and wrapping Anne up in a bone-crushing hug. Tears abound as the two friends reunite, their words babbling over one another until they pause for breath, screaming like schoolgirls. I stand to the side and watch it unfold, holding a sleeping Harris against me with a dopey smile on my face. 

“Aren’t they just a sight for tired eyes?” Fred Wright says at my side, nearly making me jump out of my skin as he claps a hand on my shoulder. 

“You’re telling me. It’s good to see you, Fred,” I greet brightly, turning towards him and offering him an extended hand. He takes it quickly and then reaches for Harris, eyes wide. 

“Let me see him! It’s been years since I held a wee one like this,” he coos, holding the child to his chest and running his thumb along the boy’s nose. 

“Gilbert! Oh it is so good to see you again!” Diana shouts, apparently finished with Anne and now moving onto me. In unladylike manner she lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “You found her! You found her again - I couldn’t - oh, Gil!” 

Diana’s tears come quickly against my chest, her composure failing as she turns back to Anne and holds her once more. I rub a thumb under my own eyes quickly, looking away as Fred chuckles. “They’re a real pair, aren’t they?” 

“You could say that,” I respond and watch them for a moment longer. When Harris begins to cry I turn to Fred and extend my arms, only to be cut off as Diana instead pulls him to her chest. Together the two women fret over the wails, leaving Fred and I to collect the bags and steer us out towards the waiting carriage. 

The ride to the Wright household is filled with excitement, boisterous stories from the couple keeping us in stitches as we ride down the trails. When we eventually crest the edge of their property I breathe a sigh of relief, my hand squeezing Anne’s side gently as we pull up their lane. 

“We’ve prepared the spare room for you, Anne. It should be big enough for the three of you,” Diana explains as we step through the front door to the expansive house. 

“And you’re sure it’s no trouble for us to stay here? Rachel said Green Gables was still furnished but…” Anne’s voice slips as she swallows her words. Diana reaches out and squeezes her hands as I step instinctively closer. 

“We’re sure. My home is your home,” Diana insists and breathes through the shake in her voice. She settles herself once more and leads us through the space and towards our room to start settling in. 

It’s later, after night has fallen and the stillness of the house has crept in, that I hold Anne against me as the tears finally catch up to her. We don’t speak, our touch enough to keep us grounded as all of the hurt rises and colours our day. When finally she drifts off to sleep with her back pressed to my chest I breathe a sigh of relief, my lips pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder before I follow her quickly into slumber. 

Morning comes later than we expected, Harris’ cries not rousing us at dawn like they always seemed to now. It’s almost disorienting, I find, to wake up well rested and with Anne curled into me. Disorienting and wonderful, I have to admit. 

But the peace is short-lived as soon she stirs, her short red hair a tangled mess as she raises her head to look at me. “Why does it feel like I’ve slept for five years?” She yawns, tightening her arms around me before starting to withdraw. 

In a quick move I chuckle and lean towards her, capturing her lips in a deep kiss that leaves her dazed. As I withdraw she groans, lifting her hand to my neck to keep me with her a moment longer. 

If not for the knock at the door I wasn’t sure we ever would have gotten out of bed, the taste of her making me feel lightheaded as we reluctantly pulled apart. 

“May I come in?” A small voice calls through the wood. Anne lifts a brow at me and I lean to the side of the bed, pulling on my shirt as I hand her her oversized sweater. 

“You may,” Anne replies lightly, watching as a little girl carries in an overflowing tray. 

“Father said not to bother you but Mother wanted to make sure you had sus-sus-tan-eze,” the girl greets, looking up at us with wide eyes as she stumbles over the word. I can see the recognition come over Anne’s features, her gaze softening. 

“And what lovely girl brings us breakfast in bed?” Anne’s voice shakes as she takes the tray from her hands. 

“Why, I’m Anne Cordelia!” The girl replies, a wide smile on her face. 

“I’m so very pleased to meet you. I’m Anne Shirley Cuthbert Blythe,” Anne whispers, reaching a shaking hand out to the girl. 

“Mother said we had the same name but you’ve got oh so many more than I do!” Anne Cordelia insists, taking Anne’s hand and shaking it thoroughly. “But I need to get back to the kitchen. Father said I couldn’t bother you for too long or else I’d have to do Fred’s chores. Are you coming out soon? It’s almost mid-day you know.” 

“Yes - we’ll come see you as quick as we can,” Anne replies with a laugh, squeezing my hand tightly and watching as the girl retreats back out the door. Once the latch has clicked shut she turns to me abruptly, launching herself against me in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so glad we’re here.” 

“Me too,” I mumble and rub my hand along her back. 

We finish the tray and dress as we go, preparing ourselves for the onslaught of Avonlea that awaits us this afternoon. A church picnic happened to fall later that day and Diana urged us to attend, promising that it would be a merry event for everyone to visit and see the long-lost scholars. 

“Has he been behaving?” I ask Diana as we join them on the porch, reaching for Harris and settling him against me with a soft smile. 

“Of course! We collected him this morning from your room when he was getting hungry. You looked too peaceful to wake up,” she says with a cheeky smile, her cheeks flushing. I feel my own colour rise as we share a knowing look that makes Anne slap at my shoulder. 

“Are we meeting Bash and Mary at the picnic?” Anne asks, sitting down beside Diana and looking out over the rolling fields with a wayward gaze. 

“Yes. They were helping set up and couldn’t get out of it,” I reply as I bounce Harris playfully on my thigh. He smiles and wobbles, his expression bright and warming. 

“You look so lovely with him, Gil. I always knew you would make a splendid father,” Diana interjects, watching us with a soft gaze. I catch her eye as she smiles, looking between the three of us. “Did I mention how wonderful it is to see you together? After all this time?” 

“Don’t start again or you’ll get me going too!” Anne groans, shifting towards her friend and grasping her knee. The two laugh and shake their heads, words unspoken but conveying the closing of the miles of distance between them. 

“To have you home Anne… It’s a dream I could not imagine after all those years where we didn’t hear from you. It was the longest silence,” Diana sighs, lifting a handkerchief to her eyes and dabbing at the tears that appear. 

“It really was the loneliest too,” Anne adds before standing and pulling Diana into her embrace, a proper tight hug bringing the two bosom friends back together. 

I take my leave to let them re-connect and head towards the pond, toting Harris along with me as I show him the beauty of our home. By the time we arrive back it’s nearly time to leave again and we quickly get ready, dressing in our best under strict instruction from Diana. 

The church courtyard is full of people when we arrive and for a moment Anne simply sits in the carriage looking out at all of our old acquaintances and their families. “I can’t believe how many people I recognize,” she whispers as Diana and Fred head with their children and Harris towards the gathering. I sit with Anne’s hands in my lap, waiting until she’s ready. 

“It’s different but still the same,” I agree softly. 

“Blythe!” A familiar voice calls out from behind us, Bash coming into view with his arms raised wide and over his head. He climbs into the carriage and pulls us into tight hugs, eventually dragging us down and towards the crowd excitedly. 

With my hand wrapped tightly with Anne’s we approach the cluster of people, eyes wide as they all look towards us. Bright smiles greet us as the crowd parts, inviting us forward and towards a small arch lined with summer flowers. Below the structure stands Reverend Allan, aged but still smiling. 

“Bash,” I hiss, looking towards the man who gives me a wink. I look to Anne who freezes mid-step, the whole picture starting to come together as her brow furrows. 

She turns to me then with a stricken look, grey eyes wide. “Is this what I think it is?” She questions, her fingers squeezing mine so tightly that I nearly lose feeling. Instinctually I pull her into my arms, ducking my head so that I can whisper my replies into her ear. 

“It just might be. Do you want to leave?” I offer. Anne pauses, her hands coming up to draw my gaze to hers. 

“No. Do you?” With a shake of my head I grin and turn us back towards the altar, leading us forward with a blush colouring up my neck. “Reverend, it’s been a while.” I greet as we join him. Behind us the crowd quiets, anticipation filling the air. 

“As it has, Doctor Blythe. Mrs Wright informed me things were a bit unorthodox in your marriage which, to be honest, only surprised me a little. Miss Anne, how are you?” The Reverend greets, beaming down towards Anne with a knowing look. 

“I would like to hug you - Oof!” Nearly knocked off her feet with the impact, Anne laughs as Reverend Allan pulls her into a quick hug. 

“It might not be proper but you’ve always held a special place in my heart, dear girl. I couldn’t pass up the chance to be here for you,” he replies, settling his hands on her shoulders as she wipes away tears. 

“Kindred spirits still?” She laughs and we join her, my own eyes blinking away tears. 

“Always. Now - shall we get onto the real reason we’re all gathered here today?” 

The wedding happens in the blink of an eye. One minute we’re slipping off our rings and then next we’re placing them back with weighted words, our hands shaking as we say our vows before the people of Avonlea and God himself. Though surely we would offend some in the crowd with our out of order nuptials and the obvious glaring truth of Anne’s existing marital status, on that afternoon there doesn’t seem to be a care in the world for propriety and the idea of right and wrong. There was only us, our family, our friends, standing with us as we promised each other for now and forever. 

“And now you may kiss the bride,” Reverend Allen announces to a roaring applause. I grin down at Anne, her beaming smile meeting mine, before I pull her against me in a breathless kiss that makes the crowd whoop and Bash let out an ear-piercing whistle. 

“Mrs Blythe,” I breathe as we part, her arms still tightly wrapped around my neck

“Doctor Blythe,” she counters softly, her fingers playing with the curls in my hair. 

“You’ve got your whole life to kiss her, Blythe!” Bash interrupts eventually, jovial in his excitement. 

The gathering dissolves into a party unheard of in the small town, a band setting up under trees filled with lanterns as the evening begins to set in. We dance and visit until our feet ache, only giving ourselves a moment of peace when it’s time to settle in to eat. 

“Miss Anne!” Seb shouts and leaps to his feet as we tuck ourselves into the table. He’s at Anne’s side in a flash, his arms outstretched as he barrels towards her before he stops abruptly, nearly colliding into her as he slows and puts his arms down. “Sorry Miss Anne, I almost forgot. May I hold your hand and say hello?” 

My heart nearly stops in my chest, the memory of Christmas flooding back into my mind as little Sebastian curbs his excitement for a more refined approach. 

“Oh Seb,” Anne sighs, reaching towards the boy. “I do wish you would give me the biggest hug you can provide.” He holds nothing back and leaps towards her, arms wrapping around her neck as tightly as he can make them. 

“I was afraid you were still scared of soft touches and I didn’t want to ruin your day,” he whispers conspiratorially, leaning back and lifting his palm to her cheek. Her eyes shine as she glances over towards me, colour rising in her cheeks as the boy smoothes her hair back. 

“Well, Seb, I’ve had quite a good teacher these last few months. Uncle Gil has been helping me remember how to let - how did you say it? Love speak through our hands?” Seb nods vigorously, a wide smile beaming from him. “He’s helped me realize that you were very right to say it like that. I’m not as afraid as I used to be and I’m even able to help Harris with it too.” 

“So do I have to ask first everytime I see you?” He asks pointedly, dark eyes gazing into hers. 

“It’s always good to ask first but if you get really excited and you just want to give me a hug, I wouldn’t mind that so much. Okay?” 

“Okay Miss Anne, you got it.” He crawls down from her lap and heads back towards his chair, stopping once to look up at Anne with a charming smile. “I almost forgot - I like your red hair a lot better. It fits my memory of you best.” 

I feel like I’ve been run over by a horse, Anne’s hand clasping tightly in mine as she takes the compliment and blows the boy a kiss. He runs off in another second and she turns to me with the widest smile I’d seen from her in decades, her colouring flushing out her freckles. I could nearly drag her into a bedroom right now for how the joy makes her look, stunning and alive. 

“You pick good, Doctor Blythe,” she whispers into my ear, resting her chin on my shoulder for a moment before the food is placed before us. 

“Tell me about it,” I murmur back, my hand squeezing her thigh until she chuckles and brushes me away. The meal passes and I don’t remember tasting a thing, at some point finding myself tied up with tiny dancers, the daughters of our friends having taken my dance card and filled it so that I barely have a chance to sit down. 

When I finally do it is with a surprised glance that I realize Anne is nowhere to be found, Diana and Fred sitting with Bash and Mary, Harris soaking in the attention that the group would provide him. 

“Has anyone seen Anne?” I question over the music, watching as they all look at me with confusion. Only Mary smiles sadly, nodding in the direction of Green Gables without a word. 

I don’t hesitate to go to her, making my way through the fields and hopping the long standing fences between the properties. The graveyard sits in the corner of a field and it’s there I see a small figure seated on the ground amongst the tombstones. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” I ask as I come to join her. There’s fresh tears on her cheeks, her hair a wayward mess as she sniffs and looks up at me. 

“I felt like maybe I needed to tell them on my own,” she replies lowly, looking between Matthew and Marilla’s graves. I settle beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and letting her lean back into me. 

“Were they happy to hear the good news?” She chuckles and absently plays with my fingers, drawing her nails across the back of my hand in a soft pattern. 

“I like to think so. I saved that part for last though. I wanted them to know the whole story so that they understood why I didn’t come back but I didn’t want them to be sad for me. How could they be knowing that it all brought me back to you?”

“They would have understood. They loved you Anne,” I say unnecessarily. 

“I know.” 

We sit there together until the moon is cresting the horizon, dusk evolving into night and the cool evening air wrapping around us. Occasionally Anne shares another tale, a funny story from the Glen or a charming piece from school, sometimes it’s me with a recollection of admiration for their girl, something that would have pleased them so. 

“I’m glad we came back,” Anne admits as we get to our feet, our arms linking together as we head back towards the party. “It’s almost like I’ve closed this book on my life. Like I’m ready to start fresh with you, finally.” 

“Are we on the same page then?” I ask with a pause in my step. She twists and wraps herself around me, looking up from where her chin has settled against my chest. 

“I’d argue we’re in the same sentence,” she whispers and without thinking we hold tight to one another, my hands lifting her chin so I can meet her lips with mine in a promise of forever. 


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, the close of this story. I'm so pleased to have shared it with so many of you. I appreciate every comment, every kudos, every positive thought and vibe that you lovely people have given it. If you have any final thoughts, feelings, whatever, please don't hesitate to let me know because I love hearing from you (even if you've never commented before). Thank you for reading and much love, lollercakes.

“You’re going to be fine, Anne,” I remind her as Susan wipes her brow, panic lacing through her as she scrambles to grab onto anything tangible. “It’s almost over. A few more pushes and you’ll be through with it.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Gilbert,” Anne seethes, her face red and the hair along her brow sticking to her sweat slicked forehead. 

It had been a difficult pregnancy, the first one after her last miscarriage since coming to the Glen. To say she’d been worried had been an understatement - Anne had spent the first month after we were sure fretting about anything and everything that made her feel uneasy. So caught up in herself and her fears I’d almost had to dump a bucket of water on her one day to get her to cool off. But we’d found our stride when I taught her how to listen for the heartbeat, my stethoscope not far from her hand as we hurdled over those last few weeks. 

When finally the time had come she’d spun herself back into a furor, her anxiety piquing as her water broke and she found herself convinced it was blood between her legs. I’d nearly lost myself in that chaos, stomping towards the door as though I was ready to walk out. I couldn’t do it though - the consequences would be too severe and I would never forgive myself - so I turned back around and dug deep, pulling on my white coat from school to try to put some distance between us. 

It had worked. Barely. But it had worked. 

“I’m not lying. I would never lie to you,” I state, running my hand soothingly along her calf as she readies herself for the next, and hopefully final, contraction. 

“You said last week - ah! You  _ said _ you didn’t throw out the flowers in the vase but I  _ found  _ them in the garden! You lied then!” Her voice rises and I sense the urgency in her as she moans, closing her eyes as her head lulls back against the headboard. 

“We were packing Anne! I’m not going to move a vase full of water to another house. That’s just ridiculous,” I snap and she groans, harsh laughter turning into a painful hiss. “Okay - that’s it. We’re going to push really hard this time, alright?” I instruct, widening her knees and preparing myself. 

“Gil… Gil I can’t see you!” She cries, reaching her hand down for mine and patting the bed quickly as the contraction starts. 

“I’m here, Anne. Do you feel this?” I grasp her ankle and squeeze it tightly. “Just push for me, love,” I urge. She does, she comes through and she brings little James Matthew into the world all red skin and screaming. 

“Who is it Gil?” She asks breathlessly, her eyes closed as I cut the cord and bundle the boy up in a soft towel. 

“It’s James,” I murmur and settle him on his mother’s chest, Susan watching silently as the infant cries between us. I long to run my hand across Anne’s brow, to hold her to me and never let her go, but my hands are unwashed and there’s still more to do so I take a breath and return to the end of the bed. 

It’s there, watching Anne hold our child in her arms, that the tears I’ve been holding back for months start to slip out. They sting my eyes and blur my vision as I talk her through the last bit, forcing my voice to steady as Susan takes the boy in her arms. 

I do lie, I realize later that night as Anne sleeps tucked against me and Jem lays curled up on my chest. I lied to us both every day when I said that everything would be fine. I lied when I told her she shouldn’t be scared, that this pregnancy wouldn’t be like the others. I didn’t know then that it would be fine, or that she’d be successful in carrying the boy to term. All I’d known was that she had to be shown that reality could be better, that believing in something could make it so. I lied but it was born of necessity to keep her steady through all her fears and compounding anxieties. 

I needed to stop that now. It was not how trust was built, not truly. I had to remind her that love didn’t come from a heavy hand, it didn’t exist in harsh bruises or screaming matches. It came from quiet words and reassurances, from little gestures and soft touches. It came from believing she deserved it and that made it so. I didn’t have to lie, nor did have to fight her dragons for her, I just had to remind her she was strong enough to battle them herself.  

* * *

I didn’t grow up on birch switches and searing fights. My skin never felt the lash of a belt nor a palm’s swift impact, but not everyone I knew was so lucky. Loving Anne taught me the pain of trauma and the sharp cut of a memory still fresh and full of hurt. It also taught me the strength of resiliency and the value of a gentle word in a storm of anger, a lesson learned worth more than any schooling could give me. 

The girl I once knew never really returned to me. When Anne came to the Glen I knew then the costume and the name was more than just something to hide in. She was running from the girl she once was, terrified of finding herself back in the world she had fallen into. She was no longer Anne of Green Gables, a dreamy, bright thing that existed only in my memory. Instead in her place was someone seeking shelter from a storm, a body worn and broken with the onslaught of time. 

The girl I remembered was gone and the remnants of her were left to be collected through the years, slowly reassembled into something too remarkable for words. Anne became the sum of her experiences, the cracks in her armour solidified with golden beams that allowed her true light to finally shine through. 

The girl I once loved was never meant to be mine. She was a figment, a fleeting being that needed to evolve and find her footing in a world that stripped her to her core. The woman I love rebuilt herself after loss and suffering and a hurt that refused to cease. 

Our two sons were joined by two more brothers and three sisters, their joy and thrill bringing a light into our lives that radiated beyond our walls. Each birth was a small miracle to the woman who had lost so much, redeeming her belief in good things once more being possible. 

In the years that followed Anne coming to the Glen we entwined our lives, creating a foundation and laying the bricks of our future. Together we built homes within each other, steady enough to withstand any storm that came upon us. Her scars healed, her smile brightened, and her hope finally returned.

I grew up on soft touches from my father, a steady hand in a world that I would learn could be cruel and harsh. His lessons taught me how to love, how to give and receive it, how to pour it into someone else. He must have known then that I would need this teaching most of all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you're reading so far? Why not leave a quick comment or let me know what's going on in that head of yours? I promise I'll get back to you!


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